f*AMPM  ATFS 

V»/-\lvl  I    I   I /A.  I  L**O 


A  STORY  OF  THE  PLAINS 


IT  WAS  A  LIVE  BABY.  "—[See  page  13.] 


CAMPMATES 


A  Story  of  the  Plains 


By 
KIRK  MUNROE 

Author  of 

"TH«  FLAMINGO  FEATHER"  "WAKULLA"  "DORYMATES* 
"DERRICK  STERLING"  ETC. 


Illustrated 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 

NEW   YORK   AND    LONDON 


BOOKS  BY 
KIRK  MUNROE 

CAMPMATES.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo 
DORYMATES.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo 
CANOEMATE8.     Illustrated.    Post  8vo 
RAFTMATES.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo 
WAKULLA.     Illustrated.     16mo 
THE  FLAMINGO  FEATHER.     Illustrated.     16mo 
DERRICK  STERLING.     Illustrated.     16mo 
CHRYSTAL,   JACK   &   CO.      Illustrated.      16mo 
THE  COPPER  PRINCESS.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo 
FORWARD,  MARCH!     Illustrated.     Post  8vo 
THE  BLUE   DRAGON.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo 
FOR  THE  MIKADO.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo 
UNDER  THE  GREAT  BEAR.    Illustrated.    PostSvo 
THE  FUR-SEAL'S  TOOTH.    Illustrated.    Poet  8vo 
SNOW-SHOES  AND  SLEDGES. 
Illustrated.     Post  8vo 

RICK  DALE.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo 

THE  PAINTED  DESERT.     Illustrated.     Post  8vo 


HARPER  <fe  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1891,  by  HARPER  £  BROTHERS. 

PRINTED    IN    THE     UNITED    STATES    OF    AMERICA 
L-F 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I.  A  WEARY  RIDE     .....,.,,,.  1 

II.  A  RUDE  BAPTISM ,    .  9 

III.  A  BOY  WITHOUT  A  BIRTHDAY  .    .    .    ,    <    .  16 

IV.  "I  JUST  HATE  TO  STUDY"    .    .    .    .    c    ,    .  25 
V.  SWIMMING  INTO  A  FRIENDSHIP 83 

VI.  RECEIVING  AN  OFFER  AND  ACCEPTING  IT     .  41 

VII.  ACROSS  THE  MISSISSIPPI 50 

VIII.  GLEN  RUNS  A  LOCOMOTIVE   , 59 

IX.  KANSAS  CITY  IN  EARLY  DAYS 66 

X.  AT  WORK  WITH  THE  ENGINEER  CORPS.    .    ,  75 

XI.  ALMOST  TOO  GOOD  TO  BE  TRUE 83 

XII.  STARTING  ACROSS  THE  PLAINS 91 

XIII.  BINNEY  GIBBS  AND  HIS  MULE 99 

XIV.  ON  GUARD  AT  NIGHT 107 

XV.  THE    SUSPICIOUS   MOVEMENTS    OF    CERTAIN 

COYOTES   .    .    .    .    , 116 

XVI.  IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  CHEYENNES  ....  123 

XVII.  ATTACKING  A  STAGE  RANCH 132 

XVIII.  BUFFALO  AND  THEIR  USES    .......  140 

XIX.  GLEN'S  ESCAPE  FROM  THE  INDIANS  ....  147 

XX.  A  PRESENT  THAT  WOULD  PLEASE  ANY  BOY   .  154 
XXI.  LAME  WOLF,  THE  YOUNG  CHEYENNE.    .    .    .  164 

XXII.  GLEN  AND  BINNEY  GET  INTO  TROUBLE         ,  172 


M23998 


Contents. 

PAfiB 

XXIII.  FIGHTING  THE  FINEST  HORSEMEN  IN  THE 

WORLD 179 

XXIV.  CROSSING  THE  QUICKSANDS 187 

XXV.  SWEPT  AWAY  BY  A  FRESHET 196 

XXVI.  RUNNING  THE  LINE 205 

XXVII.  "COVERED  WITH  MUD  AND  GLORY".    .    .  213 

XXVIII.  LOST  IN  A  MOUNTAIN  SNOW-STORM  .    .    .222 

XXIX.  PLUNGING  INTO  A  LAKE  OF  ICE- WATER    .  231 

XXX.  DOWN  THE  LONELY  CANON 240 

XXXI.  KIT  CARSON'S  GOLD  MINE. 249 

XXXII.  A  NEW  MEXICAN  WEDDING 257 

XXXIII.  IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  Rio  GRANDE  .    .  267 

XXXIV.  BAITING  A  WOLF-TRAP  . 276 

XXXV.  EL  MORO 283 

XXXVI.  ZUNI,  THE  HOME  OF  THE  AZTECS  ....  290 

XXXVII.  A  PRACTICAL  USE  OF  TRIGONOMETRY   .    .  300 

XXXVIII.  DYING  OF  THIRST  IN  THE  DESERT     .    .    .  308 

XXXIX.  CROSSING  THE  SIERRA  NEVADA 316 

XL.  A  HOME  AND  Two  FATHERS.    .    .  .  324 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


"IT  WAS  A  LIVE  BABY" Frontispiece 

"TWO  STALWART  WARRIORS  SEIZED  HIM  BY  THE 
ARMS  AND  RAISED  HIM  BETWEEN  THEM  AS 
THEY  SWEPT  PAST" Facing  £.138 

"THE  STRANGE  CRAFT  WAS  BORNE  SLOWLY  DOWN 

STREAM" "  198 

"'HEAD  FOR  THAT  DARK  SPACE.  IT  MARKS  A 
VALLEY.  ...  IF  YOU  FIND  WATER,  FIRE 
YOUR  PISTOL'  " "  312 


CAMP  MATES. 

A  Story  of  the  Plains. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A   WEARY   RIDE.  V'      ':••'!';' 

SLOWLY  and  heavily  the  train  rumbled  on 
through  the  night.  It  was  called  an  express ; 
but  the  year  was  long  ago,  in  the  early  days  of 
railroading,  and  what  was  then  an  express  would 
now  be  considered  a  very  slow  and  poky  sort  of 
a  train.  On  this  particular  night  too,  it  ran  more 
slowly  than  usual,  because  of  the  condition  of 
the  track.  The  season  was  such  a  wet  one,  that 
even  the  oldest  traveller  on  the  train  declared  he 
could  not  remember  another  like  it.  Eain,  rain, 
rain,  day  after  day,  for  weeks,  had  been  the  rule 
of  that  spring,  until  the  earth  was  soaked  like  a 
great  sponge.  All  the  rivers  had  overflowed 
their  banks,  and  all  the  smaller  streams  were 
raging  torrents,  red,  yellow,  brown,  and  some 
times  milky  white,  according  to  the  color  of  the 


#  Campmates. 

clays  through  which  they  cut  their  riotous  way. 
The  lowlands  and  meadows  were  flooded,  so  that 
the  last  year's  hay-stacks,  rising  from  them  here 
and  there,  were  veritable  islands  of  refuge  for 
innumerable  rabbits,  rats,  mice,  and  other  small 
animals,  driven  by  the  waters  from  their  homes. 

And  all  this  water  had  not  helped  the  railroad 
one  bit.  In  the  cuts  the  clay  or  gravel  banks 
<vere  .continually  sliding  down  on  the  track ; 
while  ou  the  fills  they  were  as  continually  slid 
ing  out  from  under  it.  The  section  gangs  were 
doubled,  and  along  the  whole  line  they  were 
hard  at  work,  by  night  as  well  as  by  day,  only 
eating  and  sleeping  by  snatches,  trying  to  keep 
the  track  in  repair,  and  the  road  open  for  traffic. 
In  spite  of  their  vigilance  and  unceasing  labor, 
however,  the  rains  found  plenty  of  chances  to 
work  their  mischief  undetected. 

Many  a  time  only  the  keen  watchfulness  of 
an  engine-driver,  or  his  assistant,  the  fireman, 
saved  a  train  from  dashing  into  some  gravel 
heap,  beneath  which  the  rails  were  buried,  or 
from  plunging  into  some  yawning  opening  from 
which  a  culvert  or  small  bridge  had  been  washed 
out.  Nor  with  all  this  watchfulness  did  the 
trains  always  get  through  in  safety.  Sometimes 
a  bit  of  track,  that  looked  all  right,  would  sud 
denly  sink  beneath  the  weight  of  a  passing  train 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  3 

into  a  quagmire  that  had  been  formed  beneath 
it,  and  then  would  follow  the  pitiful  scenes  of  a 
railroad  wreck. 

So  nobody  travelled  except  those  who  were 
compelled  to  do  so,  and  the  passenger  business 
of  this  particular  road  was  lighter  than  it  had 
been  since  the  opening.  It  was  so  light  that  on 
this  night  there  were  not  more  than  half  a  dozen 
persons  in  the  single  passenger  coach  of  the  ex 
press,  and  only  one  of  these  was  a  woman.  An 
other  was  her  baby,  a  sturdy,  wholesome-looking 
little  fellow,  who,  though  he  was  but  a  year  old, 
appeared  large  enough  to  be  nearly,  if  not  quite, 
two.  He  had  great  brown  eyes,  exactly  like 
those  of  his  mother.  She  was  young  and  pretty, 
but  just  now  she  looked  utterly  worn  out,  and  no 
wonder.  The  train  was  twelve  hours  late ;  and, 
instead  of  being  comfortably  established  in  a 
hotel,  at  the  end  of  her  journey  by  rail,  as  she 
had  expected  to  be  before  dark  that  evening,  she 
was  wearily  trying  to  sleep  in  the  same  stuffy, 
jolting  car  she  had  occupied  all  day  and  had  no 
hope  of  leaving  before  morning. 

There  were  no  sleeping-cars  in  those  days,  nor 
vestibuled  trains,  nor  even  cars  with  stuffed  easy- 
chairs  in  which  one  could  lie  back  and  make 
himself  comfortable.  No,  indeed ;  there  were  no 
such  luxuries  as  these  for  those  who  travelled 


4  Ca/m/pmates. 

by  rail  at  that  time.  The  passenger  coaches  were 
just  long  boxes,  with  low,  almost  flat  roofs,  like 
those  of  freight  cars.  Their  windows  were  small, 
and  generally  stuck  fast  in  their  frames,  so  that 
they  could  not  be  opened.  There  was  no  other 
means  of  ventilation,  except  as  one  of  the  end 
doors  was  flung  open,  when  there  came  such  a 
rush  of  smoke  and  cinders  and  cold  air  that 
everybody  was  impatient  to  have  it  closed  again. 

At  night  the  only  light  was  given  by  three 
candles  that  burned  inside  of  globes  to  protect 
them  from  being  extinguished  every  time  a  door 
was  opened.  There  were  no  electric  lights,  nor 
gas,  nor  even  oil-lamps,  for  the  cars  of  those 
days,  only  these  feeble  candles,  placed  one  at 
each  end,  and  one  in  the  middle  of  the  coach. 
But  worst  of  all  were  the  seats,  which  must  have 
been  invented  by  somebody  who  wished  to  dis 
courage  railroad  riding.  They  were  narrow, 
hard,  straight -backed,  and  covered  with  shiny 
leather. 

In  a  car  of  this  description  the  young  mother, 
with  her  baby,  had  travelled  a  whole  day,  and 
nearly  a  whole  night.  It  is  no  wonder  then  that 
she  looked  worn  out,  or  that  the  baby,  who  had 
been  so  jolly  and  happy  as  to  be  voted  a  remark 
ably  fine  child  by  all  the  passengers,  should  have 
sunk  into  an  exhausted  sleep,  after  a  prolonged 


A  Story  of  ike  Plains.  5 

fit  of  screaming  and  crying,  that  caused  the  few 
remaining  inmates  of  the  car  to  look  daggers  at 
it,  and  say  many  unkind  things,  some  of  which 
even  reached  the  ears  of  the  mother. 

During  the  day  there  had  been  other  women 
in  the  car,  travelling  for  shorter  or  longer  dis 
tances.  To  one  of  these,  a  lady-like  girl  who  oc 
cupied  an  adjoining  seat  for  some  hours,  and 
who  was  greatly  interested  in  the  baby,  the 
young  mother  had  confided  the  fact  that  this 
was  his  birthday,  and  also  part  of  her  own  his 
tory.  From  this  it  appeared  that  she  was  the 
wife  of  an  army  officer,  who  was  stationed  with 
his  regiment  in  the  far  West.  She  had  not  seen 
him  for  nearly  a  year,  or  just  after  the  baby  was 
born ;  but  at  last  he  had  been  ordered  to  a  fort 
on  the  upper  Mississippi  Kiver,  where  he  hoped 
to  remain  for  some  time.  Now  his  young  wife, 
who  had  only  been  waiting  until  he  could  give 
her  any  sort  of  a  home  with  him,  had  bravely  set 
forth  with  her  baby  to  join  him.  He  had  writ 
ten  her  that,  on  a  certain  date  in  the  spring,  a 
detachment  of  troops  was  to  start  from  St.  Louis 
by  steamboat  for  the  fort  at  which  he  was  sta 
tioned.  As  one  of  the  officers  of  this  detach 
ment  was  to  take  his  wife  with  him,  he  thought 
it  would  be  a  fine  opportunity  for  her  to  come 
at  the  same  time.  She  wrote  back  that  she 


6  Campmates. 

could  not  possibly  get  ready  by  the  date  named, 
but  would  come  by  a  later  boat.  After  she 
had  sent  the  letter,  she  found  that  she  could  get 
ready ;  and,  as  the  aunt  with  whom  she  was 
living  was  about  to  break  up  her  home  and 
go  abroad,  she  decided  to  start  at  once  for 
St.  Louis.  There  she  would  join  her  husband's 
friends,  travel  with  them  to  the  far-away  fort, 
and  give  the  lonely  soldier  a  joyful  surprise. 
There  was  no  time  to  send  another  letter  telling 
him  of  her  change  of  plan,  and  she  was  glad  of 
it,  for  a  surprise  would  be  so  much  nicer. 

The  early  part  of  her  journey  had  been  accom 
plished  quite  easily.  There  had  been  no  rains  in 
the  East,  such  as  were  deluging  the  whole  Ohio 
valley.  If  there  had  been,  it  is  not  likely  the 
soldier's  wife  would  have  undertaken  to  travel 
at  that  time,  and  expose  her  precious  baby  to 
such  terrible  risks,  even  to  carry  out  the  surprise 
she  anticipated  so  joyfully.  From  her  aunt's 
house,  in  ISTew  York  city,  she  had  travelled  by 
steamer  up  the  Hudson  to  Albany.  From  there 
she  took  cars  to  Buffalo,  and  a  lake  boat  to  Cleve 
land.  Now  she  was  travelling  by  rail  again, 
across  the  flooded  state  of  Ohio  towards  Cincin 
nati.  There  she  intended  taking  a  steamboat 
down  the  Ohio  River,  and  up  the  Mississippi  to 
St.  Louis,  where  she  expected  to  join  her  hus- 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  7 

band's  friends,  on  the  boat  that  would  carry  them 
all  to  their  journey's  end. 

The  details  of  this  plan  were  fully  discussed 
by  the  occupants  of  the  adjoining  seats  in  the 
car,  and  when  it  came  time  for  the  one  who  was 
not  going  through  to  leave  the  train,  and  take 
another  at  a  small  junction,  she  had  become  so 
greatly  interested  in  her  new  acquaintance  that 
she  begged  the  latter  to  write  to  her,  and  tell 
her  how  she  got  along.  She  wrote  her  own 
name  and  address  on  a  bit  of  paper,  just  before 
leaving  the  car,  and  gave  it  to  the  soldier's  wife ; 
but,  in  her  hurry,  neglected  to  make  a  note  of 
the  name  given  her  in  return,  and  afterwards, 
when  she  tried  to  recall  it,  was  unable  to  do  so. 

The  tediousness  of  the  weary  day  had  been  so 
much  lessened  by  the  making  of  this  pleasant 
acquaintance,  that  for  some  time  after  her  de 
parture  the  young  mother  remained  light-hearted 
and  cheerful.  The  baby,  too,  was  bright  and 
happy,  and  a  source  of  constant  amusement,  not 
only  to  her,  but  to  all  those  about  him. 

After  a  while,  though,  when  it  grew  dark,  and 
the  feeble  candles  were  lighted,  and  most  of  the 
passengers  had  left  the  car,  and  the  baby  at  first 
fretted  and  then  screamed,  refusing  to  be  quieted 
for  more  than  an  hour,the  exhausted  young  mother 
grew  nervous  and  frightened.  Only  the  thought 


8  Campmaies. 

of  the  glad  meeting,  and  the  great  happiness 
awaiting  her  at  the  end  of  this  tedious  journey, 
enabled  her  to  bear  it  as  bravely  as  she  did. 

At  length  the  babe  cried  himself  to  sleep,  and 
the  tired  arms  that  had  held  him  so  long  gladly 
laid  him  down  in  a  nest  made  of  shawls  and  his 
own  dainty  blanket  on  the  opposite  seat.  This 
blanket  had  the  initials  "  G.  E."  embroidered  in 
one  corner,  though  these  did  not  stand  for  the 
baby's  name.  In  fact,  he  had  no  first  name,  nor 
had  he  yet  been  christened.  This  ceremony  hav 
ing  been  postponed  until  both  the  father  and 
mother  could  take  part  in  it ;  the  question  of  a 
name  had  also  been  left  undecided  until  then. 
The  young  mother  wanted  her  boy  called  "  Ger 
ald,"  after  his  father,  and  she  had  even  embroid 
ered  the  inital  "  G."  on  his  blanket  to  see  how  it 
would  look.  Thus  far,  however,  the  baby  was 
only  called  "baby,"  and  had  no  right  to  any 
other  name. 

As  the  child  slept  quietly  in  spite  of  the  jar 
and  jolt  and  rumble  of  the  train,  the  fair  young 
head  of  the  mother  who  watched  so  fondly  and 
patiently  over  him  gradually  drooped  lower  and 
lower.  The  brown  eyes,  so  like  the  baby's,  closed 
for  longer  and  longer  intervals,  until  at  length 
she,  too,  was  fast  asleep,  and  dreaming  of  the  joy 
that  awaited  her  journey's  end. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  RUDE  BAPTISM. 

THERE  were  others  on  that  train  equally  weary 
with  the  young  mother,  and  even  more  anxious ; 
for  they  knew  better  than  she  the  ever-present 
dangers  of  that  water-soaked  road-bed,  and  they 
bore  the  weight  of  a  fearful  responsibility. 

The  conductor,  looking  grave  and  careworn, 
started  nervously  at  every  lurch  of  more  than 
ordinary  violence,  and  kept  moving  uneasily  from 
end  to  end  of  his  train.  He  never  passed  the 
young  mother  and  her  sleeping  babe  without  cast 
ing  sympathetic  glances  at  them.  He  had  done 
everything  possible  for  their  comfort,  but  it  was 
little  enough  that  he  could  do,  and  for  their  sake, 
more  than  anything  else,  he  wished  the  trip  were 
ended. 

All  through  the  long,  dark  hours,  the  brake- 
men  stood  on  the  platforms  of  the  swaying  cars, 
ready  at  a  moment's  warning  to  spring  to  the 
iron  brake- wheels.  This  crew  of  train  hands  had 
only  come  on  duty  at  nightfall,  and  had  little 
knowledge  of  the  through  passengers. 


10  Campmates. 

In  the  locomotive  cab,  gazing  ahead  with 
strained  eyes,  were  the  engine-driver,  Luke 
Matherson,  and  his  fireman.  Every  now  and 
then  the  latter  found  a  change  of  occupation  in 
flinging  open  the  furnace  door  and  tossing  chunk 
after  chunk  of  wood  into  the  glowing  interior. 
As  he  closed  the  door  he  would  stand  for  a  mo 
ment  and  look  inquiringly  at  his  companion,  who 
sat  motionless,  with  his  hand  on  the  throttle,  and 
his  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  the  lines  of  track  gleam 
ing  in  the  light  of  the  powerful  headlight.  Occa 
sionally,  without  turning  his  head,  he  exchanged 
a  few  words  with  the  fireman. 

*  It's  a  nasty  night,  Luke,"  remarked  the  latter. 

"  Yes.  It  wouldn't  take  many  more  such  to 
make  me  give  up  railroading." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  Beasely  cut  F 

"I'm  afraid  of  it,  and  wish  we  were  well 
through  it." 

"  Well,  we'll  know  all  about  it  in  five  minutes 
more,  and  after  that  there's  nothing  serious  but 
Glen  Eddy  creek." 

The  silence  that  followed  was  broken,  a  few 
minutes  later,  by  two  piercing  blasts  from  the 
whistle.  The  fireman  had  already  seen  the  dan 
ger,  and  sprung  to  the  brake-wheel  on  the  tender 
behind  him.  On  every  car  the  brakes  were  grind 
ing  harshly,  set  up  by  nervous,  lusty  young  arms. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  11 

The  train  did  not  come  to  a  standstill  an  instant 
too  soon  ;  for,  as  it  did  so,  the  cow-catcher  was 
already  half  buried  in  a  slide  from  one  of  the 
treacherous  banks  of  the  Beasely  cut. 

An  hour's  hard  work  by  all  the  train  hands, 
and  some  of  the  passengers,  with  shovels  and 
spades,  cleared  the  track,  and  once  more  the  ex 
press  proceeded  slowly  on  its  uncertain  way. 

Now  for  the  Glen  Eddy  bridge.  Between  it 
and  the  city  that  marked  the  end  of  the  line  was 
the  best  stretch  of  road-bed  in  the  state.  It  was 
a  long  one,  but  it  presented  no  dangers  that  a 
railroad  man  need  fear. 

The  gray  dawn  was  breaking  as  the  train  ap 
proached  Glen  Eddy  creek.  In  the  summer-time 
it  was  a  quiet  stream,  slipping  dreamily  along 
between  its  heavily  wooded  banks.  Now  it  was 
a  furious  torrent,  swollen  beyond  all  recognition, 
and  clutching  spitefully  at  the  wooden  piers  of 
heavy  crib- work  that  upheld  the  single  span  of 
the  bridge. 

The  train  was  stopped  and  the  bridge  was  ex 
amined.  It  seemed  all  right,  and  the  conductor 
gave  the  word  to  go  ahead.  It  was  the  last 
order  he  ever  issued  ;  for,  in  another  minute,  the 
undermined  piers  had  given  way,  and  the  train 
was  piled  up  in  the  creek  a  shapeless  wreck. 

From  that  terrible  plunge  only  two  persons 


1%  Campmates. 

escaped  unharmed.  One  was  Luke  Matherson, 
the  engine-driver,  and  the  other  was  the  baby. 
When  the  former  felt  his  engine  dropping  from 
under  him,  he  sprang  from  it,  with  desperate  en 
ergy,  far  out  into  the  muddy  waters,  that  instant 
ly  closed  over  him.  On  coming  to  the  surface, 
the  instinct  of  self-preservation  forced  him  to 
swim,  but  it  was  wildly  and  without  an  idea  of 
direction  or  surroundings.  For  nearly  a  minute 
he  swam  with  all  his  strength  against  the  cur 
rent,  so  that  he  was  still  near  the  wreck,  when 
his  senses  were  again  quickened  into  action  by  a 
smothered  cry,  close  at  hand.  At  the  same  time 
a  dark  mass  drifted  towards  him,  and  he  seized 
hold  of  it.  As  the  cry  seemed  to  come  from  this, 
the  man's  struggles  became  directed  by  a  definite 
purpose.  Partially  supporting  himself  by  the 
wreckage,  he  attempted  to  guide  it  to  the  nearest 
bank ;  but  so  swift  was  the  current  that  he  was 
swept  down  stream  more  than  a  mile  before  he 
succeeded  in  accomplishing  his  purpose. 

Finally  his  feet  touched  bottom,  and  he  drew 
his  prize  to  shore.  It  was  a  car  seat,  torn  from 
its  fastenings.  Tightly  wedged  between  it  and  its 
hinged  back  was  a  confused  bundle,  from  which 
came  a  smothered  wailing.  Tearing  away  the 
wrappings,  Luke  Matherson  stared  for  a  moment, 
in  a  dazed  fashion,  at  what  they  had  held  so  safely. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  13 

He  could  hardly  believe  that  it  was  a  live  baby, 
lying  there  as  rosy  and  unharmed  as  though  in 
its  cradle. 

The  sun  had  risen  when  the  engine-driver,  hag 
gard,  exhausted,  with  clothing  torn  and  muddy, 
but  holding  the  babe  clasped  tightly  in  his  arms, 
staggered  into  the  nearest  farm-house,  two  miles 
back  from  the  creek. 

After  his  night  of  intense  mental  strain,  the 
shock  of  the  disaster,  his  plunge  into  the  chilling 
waters,  and  his  subsequent  struggle  to  save  the 
only  surviving  passenger  of  the  train,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  even  Luke  Matherson's  strong 
frame  yielded,  and  that  for  several  weeks  he  was 
prostrated  by  a  low  fever.  All  this  time  the  baby 
was  kept  at  the  farm-house  with  him,  in  order 
that  he  might  be  identified  and  claimed;  but 
nobody  came  for  him,  nor  were  any  inquiries 
made  concerning  the  child.  He  was  called  "  the 
Glen  Eddy  baby"  by  the  few  settlers  of  that 
sparsely  populated  region,  who  came  to  gaze  at 
him  curiously  and  pityingly.  Thus  those  who 
cared  for  him  gradually  came  to  call  him  "  Glen" 
for  want  of  a  better  name ;  and,  as  the  initials 
embroidered  on  the  blanket  saved  with  him  were 
"  G.  E.,"  people  soon  forgot  than  Glen  Eddy  was 
not  his  real  name. 

Although  several  bodies  were  recovered  from 


H  Campmates. 

the  wreck  of  the  express,  that  of  the  young 
mother  was  not  among  them ;  and,  as  there  was 
no  one  left  alive  who  knew  that  she  had  been  on 
the  train,  of  course  her  death  was  not  reported. 
Thus  the  mystery  surrounding  the  Glen  Eddy 
baby  was  so  impenetrable  that,  after  a  while, 
people  gave  up  trying  to  solve  it,  and  finally  it 
was  almost  forgotten. 

When  Luke  Matherson  recovered  from  his  fe 
ver,  nothing  could  induce  him  to  return  to  his 
duties  as  engine-driver  on  the  railroad. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  never  will  I  put  myself  in  the 
way  of  going  through  another  such  night  as  that 
last  one." 

He  went  to  Cincinnati  as  soon  as  he  was  able 
to  travel,  and  while  there  was  offered  a  position 
in  the  engine-room  of  a  large  mill  at  Brimfield, 
in  western  Pennsylvania,  which  he  accepted.  The 
people  of  the  farm-house  where  he  had  been  ill 
were  willing  to  keep  the  baby ;  but  Luke  Mather- 
son  claimed  it,  and  would  not  give  it  up. 

The  babe  had  been  given  to  him,  if  ever  one 
had,  he  said;  and,  if  no  one  else  loved  it,  he 
did.  Of  course,  if  anybody  could  prove  a  better 
claim  to  it  than  his,  he  would  be  the  last  one  to 
dispute  it ;  but,  if  not,  he  would  keep  the  child 
and  do  the  very  best  by  him  he  knew  how.  He 
had  no  folks  of  his  own  in  the  world,  and  was 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  15 

only  too  glad  to  feel  that  one  human  being  would 
grow  up  to  care  for  him. 

The  farm-house  people  lost  track  of  Luke  Math- 
erson  when  he  left  Cincinnati.  Thus  when,  some 
four  months  later,  a  broken-hearted  man,  who 
had  with  infinite  pains  traced  his  wife  and  child 
to  that  line  of  railroad,  reached  that  part  of  the 
country,  he  could  gain  no  further  information 
except  that  a  baby,  who  might  have  been  his, 
was  saved  from  the  Glen  Eddy  disaster,  but  what 
had  become  of  it  nobody  knew. 


CHAPTER   III. 

A  BOY  WITHOUT  A  BIRTHDAY. 

"  IT'S  no  use,  Glen,"  said  the  principal  of  the 
Brimfield  High  School,  kindly,  but  with  real  sor 
row  in  his  tone.  "  Your  marks  in  everything 
except  history  are  so  far  below  the  average  that 
I  cannot,  with  justice  to  the  others,  let  you  go 
on  with  the  class  any  longer.  So  unless  you  can 
catch  up  during  the  vacation,  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  drop  you  into  the  class  below,  and  we'll  go 
all  over  the  same  ground  again  next  year.  I'm 
very  sorry.  It  is  a  bad  thing  for  a  boy  of  your 
age  to  lose  a  whole  year ;  for  this  is  one  of  the 
most  important  periods  of  your  life.  Still,  if  you 
won't  study,  you  can't  keep  up  with  those  who 
will,  that's  certain." 

The  boy  to  whom  these  words  were  spoken 
was  a  squarely  built,  manly-looking  chap,  with 
brown  curling  hair,  and  big  brown  eyes.  He 
was  supposed  to  be  seventeen  years  old,  but  ap 
peared  younger.  Now  his  cheeks  wrere  flushed, 
and  a  hard,  almost  defiant,  expression  had  settled 
on  his  face. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  77 

"  I  know  you  are  right,  Mr.  Meadows,"  he  said, 
at  length.  "And  you  have  been  very  kind  to 
me.  It's  no  use,  though.  I  just  hate  to  study. 
I'd  rather  work,  and  work  hard  at  almost  any 
thing  else,  then  I  would  know  what  I  was  doing ; 
but  as  for  grinding  away  at  stupid  things  like 
Latin  and  geometry  and  trigonometry  and  nat 
ural  philosophy,  that  can't  ever  be  of  any  earth 
ly  use  to  a  fellow  who  doesn't  intend  to  be  either 
a  professor  or  an  astronomer,  I  can't  see  the  good 
of  it  at  all." 

"  No,  I  don't  suppose  you  can  now,"  replied  the 
principal,  smiling,  "  but  you  will  find  even  those 
things  of  use  some  time,  no  matter  what  you  may 
become  in  after-life.  I  will  try  and  talk  with 
you  again  on  this  subject  before  I  go  away ;  but 
now  I  must  leave  you.  I  hope  for  your  sake, 
though,  that  you  will  think  better  about  study 
ing,  and  not  throw  away  your  chance  to  do  so 
now,  while  it  is  comparatively  easy.  To  win 
success  in  life  you  must  study  some  time,  and  if 
you  had  stood  anywhere  near  as  high  as  Binney 
Gibbs  I  might  have  managed  to  offer  you — " 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Meadows,  but  I  must  speak 
with  you  just  a  moment,"  here  interrupted  a  voice, 
and  put  an  end  to  the  conversation  between  the 
principal  and  the  boy  who  had  allowed  his  dis 
taste  for  study  to  bring  him  into  disgrace. 


18  Campmates. 

As  he  walked  away  from  the  school -house, 
carrying  all  his  books  with  him,  for  the  term 
was  ended  and  the  long  vacation  had  begun,  the 
flush  of  mortification,  called  to  his  cheeks  by  Mr. 
Meadows's  remarks,  still  reddened  them.  He 
felt  the  disgrace  of  his  position  keenly,  though 
he  had  told  the  other  boys,  and  had  tried  to 
make  himself  believe,  that  he  did  not  care  wheth 
er  he  passed  the  examinations  or  not.  Now  that 
he  had  failed  to  pass,  he  found  that  he  did  care. 
What  was  it  that  Mr.  Meadows  might  have  of 
fered  him  ?  It  couldn't  be  that,  of  course ;  but  if 
it  should  have  been !  Well,  there  was  no  use  in 
crying  over  it  now.  Binney  Gibbs  had  been 
honored,  and  he  was  disgraced.  It  was  bad 
enough  to  realize  that,  without  thinking  of  things 
to  make  it  worse.  He  was  thankful  when  he 
reached  home  and  had  closed  the  front  door  be 
hind  him;  for  it  seemed  as  though  everybody 
he  met  must  know  of  his  disgrace,  and  be  smiling 
scornfully  at  him. 

He  was  a  sensitive  chap,  was  this  Glen  Eddy ; 
for  that  was  his  name,  and  he  was  the  same  one 
who,  as  a  baby,  was  rescued  by  Luke  Matherson 
from  the  railroad  wreck  so  many  years  ago. 
Most  people  called  him  Glen  Matherson,  and  on 
the  school  register  his  name  was  entered  as  Glen 
Eddy  Matherson;  but,  ever  since  his  last  birth- 


A  Story  of  ike  Plains.  19 

day,  when  Luke  had  told  him  that  he  was  not 
his  real  father,  and  had  fully  explained  their  re 
lations  to  each  other,  the  boy  had  thought  of 
himself  only  as  Glen  Eddy. 

The  master  mechanic  of  the  Brimfield  Mills, 
for  such  Luke  Matherson  now  was,  had  meant 
to  keep  the  secret  of  the  boy's  life  to  himself,  at 
least  for  some  years  longer.  Glen  had,  however, 
heard  rumors  of  it,  and  had  on  one  occasion  been 
taunted  by  an  angry  playmate  with  the  sneer 
that  he  was  only  a  nobody  who  didn't  belong  to 
anybody,  anyhow. 

Glen  had  promptly  forced  this  tormentor  to 
acknowledge  that  he  did  not  know  what  he  was 
talking  about ;  but  the  taunt  rankled  all  the 
same.  A  few  days  afterwards,  which  happened 
to  be  the  one  that  was  kept  as  his  seventeenth 
birthday,  he  told  his  father  of  it,  and  asked  what 
it  meant. 

Then  Luke  Matherson,  greatly  troubled,  but 
seeing  that  the  secret  could  not  be  kept  any 
longer  from  the  boy,  told  him  what  he  knew  of 
his  history.  He  ended  with, "  It  is  fifteen  years 
ago  this  very  day,  Glen,  that  the  terrible  wreck 
took  place ;  and,  as  you  were  then  thought  to  be 
about  two  years  old,  I  have  called  this  your  birth 
day  ever  since." 

The  boy  was  amazed  and  bewildered.   No  idea 


W  Campmates. 

that  the  one  whom  he  had  always  called  " father" 
was  not  such  in  reality  had  ever  entered  his  head ; 
but  now  that  the  truth  was  told  him,  it  seemed 
strange  that  he  had  not  always  known  it  instinc 
tively.  He  had  known  that  Mrs.  Matherson  was 
not  his  own  mother,  for  he  was  five  years  old 
when  she  assumed  that  position,  and  of  course 
he  had  always  known  that  the  two  children  were 
not  his  own  sisters,  though  he  loved  them  as 
dearly  as  though  they  were.  But  now  to  find 
out  that  he  did  not  really  belong  to  anybody 
was  hard. 

Who  were  his  real  parents  ?  Were  they  ah' ve  ? 
Could  he  find  them  ?  were  questions  that  now  be 
gan  to  occupy  the  boy's  mind  most  of  the  time. 

One  of  the  strangest  things  about  this  state 
of  affairs  was  to  discover  that  his  birthday  was 
not  his  birthday  after  all.  It  seemed  as  though 
some  foundation  on  which  he  had  rested  in  ab 
solute  trust  of  its  security  had  suddenly  been 
swept  from  under  him,  and  left  him  struggling 
in  a  stormy  sea  of  uncertainty. 

The  idea  of  a  boy  without  a  birthday !  Who 
ever  heard  of  such  a  thing  ?  How  the  other  fel 
lows  would  stare  and  smile  if  they  knew  it! 
Glen  had  been  so  proud  of  his  birthday,  too,  and 
it  had  been  made  so  much  of  at  home.  His  fa 
vorite  dishes  were  always  prepared  for  the  meals 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  21 

of  that  day,  his  tastes  were  consulted  in  every 
thing  that  was  done,  and  his  father  always  made 
a  point  of  giving  him  a  more  valuable  present 
then  than  even  at  Christmas.  Why,  on  the  last 
one,  the  very  day  on  which  the  boy  first  learned 
how  unreal  the  whole  thing  was,  his  father — no, 
his  adopted  father — had  given  him  the  dearest 
little  silver  watch  that  ever  was  seen. 

Many  times  since  learning  such  a  sad  lesson 
in  the  uncertainties  of  life,  Glen  had  pulled  this 
watch  from  his  pocket,  simply  to  assure  himself 
of  its  reality,  and  that  it  was  not  a  make-believe 
like  his  birthday. 

But  for  his  natural  force  of  character  and 
sweetness  of  disposition,  Glen  would  have  been 
a  spoiled  boy ;  for  Luke  Matherson  had  never 
been  able,  since  the  moment  he  first  saw  him  ly 
ing  helplessly  on  the  floating  car  seat,  to  cross 
him  in  anything,  or  deny  him  whatever  he  asked 
if  it  lay  in  his  power  to  grant  it.  With  his  own 
children  Mr.  Matherson  was  rather  strict;  but 
with  the  orphan  lad  who  had  shared  with  him 
the  greatest  peril  of  his  life,  he  could  not  be. 

Thus  Glen  had  grown  up  to  be  somewhat  im- 
pa'tient  of  restraint,  and  very  much  inclined  to 
have  his  own  way.  He  was  also  a  brave,  gener 
ous  boy,  and  an  acknowledged  leader  among  his 
young  companions.  Was  he  not  the  best  swim- 


##  Campmates. 

mer,  the  fastest  runner,  the  most  daring  climber, 
and  expert  horseback-rider  in  Brimfield?  Was 
he  not  captain  of  the  baseball  nine  ?  and  did  not 
all  the  fellows  admire  him  except  one  or  two, 
who  were  so  jealous  of  his  popularity  that  they 
sought  to  detract  from  it  ? 

One  of  those  who  were  most  envious  of  him 
was  Binney  Gibbs,  son  of  the  wealthy  owner  of 
the  Brimfield  Mills.  He  was  taller  than  Glen, 
but  was  no  match  for  him  in  anything  that  called 
for  muscle  or  pluck.  It  was  he  who  had  flung 
the  taunt  of  Glen's  being  a  nobody  at  the  boy. 
Binney  had  never  been  noted  for  his  studious 
habits  until  both  he  and  Glen  entered  the  High 
School  at  the  same  time.  Then,  realizing  that 
he  could  not  excel  at  anything  else,  he  determined 
to  beat  the  other  at  his  studies.  To  this  end  he 
strained  every  nerve  with  such  effect  that  he  not 
only  outranked  Glen  in  his  own  class,  but,  by 
working  all  through  two  long  vacations,  gained 
a  whole  year  on  him.  So  now,  while  poor  Glen 
was  threatened  with  being  turned  back  from  the 
second  class,  Binney  Gibbs  had  just  graduated 
at  the  head  of  the  first,  and  was  ready  to  enter 
college.  And  the  worst  of  it  all  was  that  every 
body  believed  him  to  be  a  whole  year  younger 
than  Glen,  too. 

To  be  sure,  Binney  was  pale  and  thin,  and  no 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  S3 

stronger  than  a  cat.  Why,  he  couldn't  even 
swim ;  but  what  of  it  ?  Had  he  not  beaten  the 
most  popular  fellow  in  town  away  out  of  sight 
in  this  scholarship  race  ?  To  crown  his  triumph 
another  thing  had  happened  to  make  Binney 
Gibbs  the  envy  of  all  the  boys  in  Brimfield,  but 
particularly  of  Glen  Eddy. 

On  that  last  day  of  school  the  diplomas  had 
been  awarded,  and  Binney's  had  been  handed  to 
him  the  first  of  all.  As  he  was  about  to  return 
to  his  seat,  amid  the  loud  applause  of  the  specta 
tors,  Mr.  Meadows  asked  him  to  wait  a  minute. 
So  Binney  stood  on  the  platform  while  the  prin 
cipal  told  of  a  wonderful  exploring  expedition 
that  was  being  fitted  out  at  that  moment,  to  go 
across  the  plains  through  the  almost  unknown 
territories  of  New  Mexico  and  Arizona  to  Cali 
fornia.  It  was  to  be  the  most  famous  expedition 
of  the  kind  ever  sent  into  the  far  West ;  and,  as 
it  was  to  be  partly  a  government  enterprise,  all 
sorts  of  political  influence  was  being  used  to  ob 
tain  positions  in  it.  It  was  to  be  commanded  by 
a  noted  general,  who  was  an  old  friend  of  Mr. 
Meadows. 

"  Now,"  said  the  principal, "  the  general  writes 
that  he  will  give  a  position  in  this  party  to  the 
boy  who  stands  highest  in  my  school  this  year, 
or,  if  I  cannot  recommend  him,  or  he  does  not 


&£  Campmates. 

choose  to  accept  it,  to  any  other  whom  I  may 
name."  Here  Mr.  Meadows  was  interrupted  by 
prolonged  applause. 

When  it  had  subsided,  he  continued.  "  There 
is  no  question  as  to  which  pupil  of  the  school 
ranks  highest  this  year.  He  stands  before  you 
now,  with  his  well-earned  diploma  in  his  hand 
[applause],  and  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  be 
able  to  offer  to  Master  Binney  Gibbs  a  position  in 
the  exploring-party  that  will  start  from  St.  Louis 
two  weeks  from  to-day,  under  command  of  my 
friend  General  Lyle.  I  hope  that  he  may  be  in 
duced  to  accept  it,  and  that  his  parents  may  per 
mit  him  to  do  so;  for  I  cannot  imagine  a  more 
fascinating  or  profitable  way  of  spending  a  year 
at  his  time  of  life. 


CHAPTER  IY. 

«I   JUST   HATE   TO    STUDY." 

MR.  MEADOWS'S  remarks  in  regard  to  the  fam 
ous  exploring  expedition,  about  to  be  sent  across 
the  Western  plains,  were  received  with  tremendous 
applause,  and  Binney  Gibbs  at  once  became  an 
object  of  envy  to  every  boy  in  the  school — to  say 
nothing  of  the  girls.  What  a  chance  to  have  of 
fered  one  just  for  doing  a  little  hard  study !  If 
the  other  boys  had  known  of  it,  how  they,  too, 
would  have  studied !  Binney  Gibbs  would  have 
been  obliged  to  work  harder  than  he  had  for 
his  position !  Yes,  sir !  ten  times  harder ! — only 
think  of  it !  Indians  and  buffalo  and  bears,  and 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  all  the  other  enchant 
ed  marvels  of  that  far-away  region.  Why,  just 
to  contemplate  it  was  better  than  reading  a  dime 
novel ! 

While  these  thoughts  were  racing  through  the 
minds  of  his  companions,  and  while  they  were 
cheering  and  clapping  their  hands,  the  lucky  boy 
himself  was  talking  with  Mr.  Meadows,  and  tell 
ing  him  how  much  he  should  like  to  join  that 


26  Campmates. 

expedition,  and  how  he  hoped  his  father  would 
let  him  do  so. 

Mr.  Gibbs  left  his  seat  in  the  audience  and 
stepped  up  to  the  platform,  where  he  talked  for 
a  moment  with  Mr.  Meadows.  Then  he  spoke 
to  Binney,  and  then,  as  he  faced  the  school,  they 
saw  that  he  had  something  to  say  to  them. 

It  was  that  he  was  proud  of  his  son — proud  of 
the  honor  shown  to  the  school  and  to  Brimfield 
through  him — and  that  he  should  certainly  allow 
Binney  to  accept  the  offered  position. 

So  it  was  settled ;  and  all  the  boys  cheered 
again.  To  Glen  Eddy  it  seemed  that  he  would 
be  willing  to  forego  all  the  other  good  things 
that  life  held  for  him  if  he  could  only  have  the 
prospect  of  one  such  year  of  adventure  as  was 
promised  to  Binney  Gibbs.  For  the  first  time 
in  his  life  he  was  genuinely  envious  of  another 
boy. 

It  was  that  same  day,  after  everybody  else  had 
gone,  that  he  had  the  talk  with  Mr.  Meadows,  in 
which  the  latter  told  him  he  must  go  back  a 
whole  year  on  account  of  not  having  studied; 
though,  if  he  had,  he  might  have  been  offered — 
And  then  came  the  interruption.  Glen  was  too 
heart-sick  and  miserable  to  wait  and  ask  what 
the  offer  might  have  been.  Besides,  he  thought 
he  knew,  and  the  thought  only  added  to  his  dis- 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  %1 

tress  of  mind,  until  it  really  seemed  as  though  no 
boy  could  be  much  more  unhappy  than  he. 

Mr.  Matherson  knew  how  the  boy  stood  in 
school,  for  the  principal  had  thought  it  his  duty 
to  inform  him ;  and  that  evening  he  and  Glen 
had  a  long  and  serious  talk. 

"  It's  no  use,  father ;  I  just  hate  to  study !"  ex 
claimed  Glen,  using  the  same  words  that  had 
caused  Mr.  Meadows  to  look  grave  earlier  in  the 
day. 

"  I  fancy  we  all  hate  a  great  many  things  that 
we  have  to  do  in  this  life,"  replied  the  master 
mechanic,  "and  you  have  certainly  had  a  strik 
ing  example  to-day  of  the  value  of  study." 

"Yes,  that's  so,"  admitted  Glen,  reluctantly, 
"  and  if  I  had  known  that  there  was  anything  of 
that  kind  to  be  gained,  perhaps  I  might  have 
tried  for  it  too." 

"If  I  had  been  given  your  chance  to  study 
when  I  was  young,"  continued  the  other,  "  and 
had  made  the  most  of  it,  I  would  have  a  better 
position  to-day  than  the  one  I  now  hold.  As  it 
is,  I  have  had  to  study  mighty  hard,  along  with 
my  work,  to  get  even  it.  I  tell  you,  my  boy,  the 
chances  come  when  you  least  expect  them.  The 
only  thing  to  do  is  to  prepare  for  them,  and  be 
ready  to  seize  them  as  they  appear.  If  one  isn't 
prepared  they'll  slip  right  past  him — and  when 


28  Campmates. 

once  they  have  done  that,  he  can  never  catch 
them  again." 

"  But  aren't  there  working  chances  just  as  well 
as  studying  chances,  father  ?" 

"  Of  course  there  are,  and  the  study  must  al 
ways  be  followed  by  work — hard  work,  too — but 
the  first  is  a  mighty  big  help  to  the  other.  Now 
I  will  gladly  do  all  that  I  can  to  help  you  on 
with  your  studies,  if  you  will  study ;  but  if  you 
won't,  you  must  go  to  work,  for  I  can't  afford 
to  support  you  in  idleness,  and  I  wouldn't  if  I 
could." 

"Well,  I'll  teU  you  what,  father,"  said  Glen, 
who  was  more  inclined  to  take  his  own  way  than 
one  proposed  by  somebody  else,  "  if  you  can  help 
me  to  the  getting  of  a  job,  I'll  try  the  work  this 
summer,  and  when  it  comes  time  for  school  to 
open  again,  I'll  decide  whether  it  shall  be  work 
or  study." 

"  All  right,  my  boy,  I'll  do  what  I  can  to  get 
you  a  place  in  the  mill  or  in  Deacon  Brown's 
store,  whichever  you  prefer." 

"Now  that  a  definite  kind  of  work  was  pro 
posed,  it  did  not  seem  so  very  desirable  after  all, 
and  Glen  doubted  if  he  should  like  either  the 
mill  or  the  store.  Still  he  did  not  say  so,  but 
asked  for  a  day  longer  in  which  to  decide,  which 
was  readily  granted  him. 


A  Story  of  ike  Plains.  89 

At  about  the  same  time  that  evening,  Binney 
Gibbs  was  saying  to  his  father,  with  a  self- 
satisfied  air, 

"  Isn't  it  a  good  thing  that  I  have  stuck  to  my 
books  as  I  have,  and  not  wasted  my  time  playing 
ball,  or  swimming,  or  doing  the  things  that  Glen 
Matherson  and  the  other  fellows  seem  to  con 
sider  so  important  ?" 

"  Well,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Gibbs,  a  little  doubt 
fully,  "  I  suppose  it  is.  At  the  same  time,  Bin 
ney,  I  do  wish  you  were  a  little  stronger.  I'm 
afraid  you'll  find  roughing  it  pretty  hard." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  physical  strength  was  the 
most  important  thing  when  you  were  young, 
father ;  but  nowadays  its  brain- work  that  tells," 
answered  Binney,  with  a  slight  tone  of  contempt 
for  his  father's  old-fashioned  ideas.  Binney  was 
not  a  bad-hearted  fellow — only  spoiled. 

The  next  day  Glen  did  not  feel  like  meeting 
any  of  his  young  companions.  He  wanted  to 
think  over  the  several  problems  that  had  been 
presented  to  him.  So  he  wandered  down  to  the 
river,  where  a  fine  new  railroad-bridge,  in  the 
building  of  which  he  had  been  greatly  interested, 
was  now  receiving  its  finishing  touches.  As  he 
walked  out  towards  the  centre  of  the  graceful 
structure,  admiring,  as  he  had  a  hundred  times 
before,  the  details  of  its  construction,  its  evident 


30  Campmates. 

strength  and  airy  lightness,  he  saw  the  engineer 
who  had  charge  of  the  work  standing,  with  a  roll 
of  plans  under  his  arm,  talking  with  one  of  the 
foremen. 

Glen  had  visited  the  bridge  so  often  that  the 
engineer  knew  him  by  sight,  and  had  even  learned 
his  name,  though  he  had  never  spoken  to  him. 
He  was,  however,  especially  fond  of  boys,  and 
had  been  much  pleased  with  Glen's  appearance. 
Several  times  he  had  been  on  the  point  of  speak 
ing  to  him,  but  had  been  restrained  by  the  diffi 
dence  a  man  is  so  apt  to  feel  in  the  presence  of  a 
stranger  so  much  younger  than  himself.  It  is  a 
fear  that  he  may  do  or  say  something  to  excite 
the  undisguised  mirth  or  contempt  that  so  often 
wait  upon  the  ignorance  of  youth. 

Without  suspecting  these  feelings  in  him,  Glen 
had  been  strangely  attracted  towards  the  engi 
neer,  whose  profession  and  position  seemed  to 
him  alike  fascinating  and  desirable.  He  wished 
he  could  become  acquainted  with  him,  but  did 
not  know  how  to  set  about  it.  He,  too,  was  diffi 
dent  and  fearful  of  appearing  in  an  unfavorable 
light  before  the  other,  who  was  evidently  so  much 
older  and  wiser  than  he.  But  he  did  long  to  ask 
this  engineer  a  great  many  questions. 

Now  he  stood  at  a  respectful  distance  and 
watched  the  young  man,  whose  name  he  knew 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  31 

to  be  Hobart,  and,  wondering  whether  his  posi 
tion  had  been  reached  by  study  or  work,  wished 
he  could  think  of  some  good  excuse  for  speaking 
to  him. 

The  floor  of  the  bridge  on  which  they  were 
standing  was  about  twenty-five  feet  above  Brim 
River,  the  deep,  swift  stream  that  it  spanned. 
Glen  had  swum  and  fished  in  it,  and  boated  on 
it,  until  he  knew  its  every  current  and  slack- 
water  pool.  He  knew  it  as  well  as  he  did  the 
road  to  the  village,  and  was  almost  as  much  at 
home  in  the  one  as  on  the  other. 

In  order  to  consult  a  note-book  that  he  drew 
from  his  pocket,  Mr.  Hobart  laid  his  roll  of  plans 
on  a  floor-beam,  at  his  feet,  for  a  moment.  Just 
then  a  little  whirling  gust  of  wind  came  along, 
and  in  an  instant  the  valuable  plans  were  sailing 
through  the  air  towards  the  sparkling  waters, 
that  seemed  to  laugh  at  the  prospect  of  bearing 
them  away  far  beyond  human  reach. 

The  engineer  tried  in  vain  to  clutch  them  as 
they  rolled  off  the  floor-beam,  and  uttered  an  ex 
clamation  of  vexation  as  they  eluded  his  grasp. 

As  he  looked  around  to  see  what  could  be  done 
towards  their  recovery,  a  boyish  figure,  without 
hat,  jacket,  or  shoes,  sprang  past  him,  poised  for 
an  instant  on  the  end  of  the  floor-beam,  and  then 
leaped  into  space.  Like  a  flash  of  light  it  shot 


32  Campmates. 

downward,  straight  and  rigid,  with  feet  held 
tightly  together,  and  hands  pressed  close  against 
the  thighs.  A  myriad  of  crystal-drops  were 
flung  high  in  the  air  and  glittered  in  the  bright 
sunlight  as  Glen,  striking  the  water  with  the  im 
petus  of  a  twenty-five-foot  fall,  sank  deep  beneath 
its  surface. 


CHAPTER  V. 

SWIMMING   INTO   A  FRIENDSHIP. 

ALTHOUGH  Glen  found  no  difficulty  in  coming 
to  the  surface,  almost  at  the  spot  where  the  roll 
of  plans  floated,  and  grasping  it,  he  did  not  find 
it  so  easy  to  bring  it  safely  to  shore.  To  begin 
with,  the  roll  occupied  one  hand,  so  that  he  had 
but  one  for  swimming.  Then  the  current  was 
strong,  and  the  banks  steep.  He  was  very  near 
the  middle  of  the  river.  Any  other  Brimfield 
boy  would  have  been  in  despair  at  finding  him 
self  in  such  a  situation.  But,  then,  no  other  boy 
in  Brimfield  would  have  taken  that  leap. 

For  a  moment  Glen  wondered  what  he  should 
do.  Then  he  remembered  the  "  back-set "  at  the 
Bend,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  below  the  bridge.  It 
would  put  him  right  in  to  the  bank,  at  a  place 
where  it  was  low,  too.  The  anxious  watchers  on 
the  bridge  wondered  to  see  the  boy  turn  on  his 
back  and  quietly  drift  away  with  the  current, 
at  the  same  time  holding  the  roll  of  plans,  for 
which  he  had  dared  so  much,  clear  of  the  water. 

They  shouted  to  him  to  swim  towards  one  or 


3%,  Campmates. 

the  other  bank  and  they  would  fling  him  a  rope ; 
but  Glen  only  smiled  without  wasting  any  breath 
in  answering.  Most  of  the  men  ran  to  one  end 
of  the  bridge,  because  it  looked  to  them  as  though 
the  boy  were  nearer  that  bank  than  the  other ; 
but  Mr.  Hobart,  who  had  studied  the  river,  re 
membered  the  Bend,  and  hurried  to  the  other 
end.  When  he  reached  it  he  ran  down  along 
the  bank,  towards  the  place  where  he  felt  certain 
the  boy  would  attempt  to  land.  He  got  there 
in  time  to  see  Glen  swimming  with  all  his  might 
to  get  out  of  the  main  current  and  into  the  "  back 
set."  With  two  hands  he  would  have  done  it 
easily ;  but  with  only  one  it  was  hard  work. 
Then,  too,  his  clothing  dragged  heavily. 

Mr.  Hobart  shouted  to  him  to  let  go  the  roll. 
"  Drop  it  and  make  sure  of  your  own  safety,"  he 
cried.  "  They  are  not  worth  taking  any  risks 
for."  But  Glen  was  not  the  kind  of  a  boy  to  let 
go  of  a  thing  that  he  had  once  made  up  his  mind 
to  hold  on  to,  so  long  as  he  had  an  ounce  of 
strength  left. 

So  he  struggled  on,  and  at  last  had  the  satis 
faction  of  feeling  that  something  stronger  than 
his  own  efforts  was  carrying  him  towards  shore. 
He  had  gained  the  "back-set,"  and,  though  its 
direction  was  rather  up  along  the  bank,  than  in 
towards  it,  the  swimmer  had  still  strength  enough 
left  to  overcome  this  difficulty. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  35 

A  tree,  growing  straight  out  from  the  bank, 
overhung  the  stream,  so  that  Glen  at  length 
drifted  under  it,  and  caught  hold  of  a  drooping 
branch.  He  had  not  strength  enough  to  pull 
himself  up ;  but  it  was  not  needed.  With  the 
activity  that  comes  from  a  life  spent  in  the  open 
air,  the  engineer  had  run  out  on  the  horizontal 
trunk,  and  now,  lying  flat  on  it,  he  could  just 
reach  the  boy's  hand.  In  another  minute  the 
strong  arms  had  drawn  Glen  up  to  a  secure  rest 
ing-place,  where  he  might  regain  his  breath  and 
drip  to  his  heart's  content. 

"  Here  are  the  plans,  Mr.  Hobart,"  he  said, 
shyly,  and  at  the  same  time  proudly.  "  I  hope 
they  are  not  spoiled  by  the  water.  I  held  them 
out  of  it  as  much  as  I  could." 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  spoiled  by  the  water, 
Glen  Matherson,"  laughed  the  engineer,  as  he 
took  the  wet  roll  from  the  boy's  hand.  "  You 
have  done  splendidly,  and  I  am  sincerely  grateful 
to  you  for  rescuing  my  plans,  which  are  indeed 
of  great  value.  At  the  same  time  I  wouldn't  do 
such  a  thing  again,  if  I  were  you,  for  anything 
less  important  than  the  saving  of  life.  It  was  a 
big  risk  to  take,  and  I  should  have  suffered  a 
life-long  sorrow  if  anything  had  gone  wrong 
with  you." 

Although  it  was  a  warm  June  day,  and  Glea 


36  Oampmates. 

laughed  at  the  idea  of  catching  cold,  he  had  been 
in  the  water  long  enough  to  be  thoroughly  chilled. 
So,  when  they  regained  the  bank,  Mr.  Hobart 
insisted  that  he  should  take  off  his  clothes,  wring 
them,  and  let  them  dry  in  the  hot  sun.  In  the 
meantime  a  workman  had  come  down  from  the 
bridge  with  the  boy's  hat,  jacket,  and  shoes.  He 
lent  him  his  overalls,  and,  thus  comically  arrayed, 
Glen  sat  and  talked  with  the  engineer  while  his 
clothes  were  drying. 

How  kindly  the  brown-bearded  face  was,  and 
with  what  interest  the  man  listened  to  all  the 
boy  had  to  say.  How  pleasant  was  his  voice, 
and,  in  spite  of  his  age  (he  was  about  thirty-five) 
and  wisdom,  how  easy  it  was  to  talk  to  him  !  It 
vr  as  so  easy,  and  he  proved  such  a  sympathetic 
listener,  that  before  Glen  knew  it  he  found  him 
self  confiding  all  his  troubles  and  hopes  and 
perplexities  to  this  new  friend.  It  began  with 
his  name,  which  he  told  the  engineer  was  not 
Matherson,  and  then  he  had  to  explain  why  it 
was  not. 

Then  they  wondered  together  what  sort  of  a 
man  Glen's  real  father  could  be,  provided  he 
were  alive;  and  if,  by  any  strange  chance,  he 
and  his  son  would  ever  meet  and  know  each 
other,  Mr.  Hobart  did  not  think  it  at  all  likely 
they  ever  would.  From  this  the  boy  was  led  to 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  37 

tell  of  his  dislike  for  study,  and  into  what  trouble 
it  had  led  him.  He  even  told  of  the  decision 
reached  by  his  adopted  father  and  himself  the 
evening  before,  and  the  undesirable  choice  of 
work  that  had  been  presented  to  him. 

"  And  so  you  don't  think  you  would  fancy 
either  the  mill  or  the  store  ?"  asked  Mr.  Hobart. 

"  No,  sir,  I  do  not.  Each  one,  when  I  think 
of  it,  seems  worse  than  the  other,  and  they  both 
seem  worse  than  most  anything  else." 

"  Worse  than  studying  2" 

"Just  as  bad,  because  either  of  them  means 
being  shut  up,  and  I  hate  to  stay  in  the  house. 
I  should  like  some  business  that  would  keep  me 
out-of-doors  all  the  time." 

"  Ploughing,  for  instance,  or  driving  a  horse- 
car,  or  digging  clams,  or  civil-engineering,  or 
something  nice  and  easy,  like  any  of  those?" 
suggested  Mr.  Hobart,  gravely. 

"Civil-engineering  is  what  I  think  I  should 
like  better  than  anything  else  in  the  world!" 
exclaimed  the  boy,  eagerly.  "  That's  what  you 
are,  isn't  it,  sir  P 

"  That  is  what  I  am  trying  to  be,"  answered 
Mr.  Hobart,  smiling ;  and  if,  by  years  of  hard 
work,  hard  study,  and  unceasing  effort,  I  can 
reach  a  generally  recognized  position  as  an  en 
gineer,  I  shall  be  satisfied  with  my  life's  work." 


j6  Campmates. 

"  Do  you  have  to  study  ?"  asked  Glen,  in  amaze 
ment. 

"  Indeed  1  do,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  have  to 
study  continually,  and  fully  as  hard  as  any  school 
boy  of  your  acquaintance." 

Glen  looked  incredulous.  It  is  hard  for  a  boy 
to  realize  that  his  school  is  only  the  place  where 
he  is  taught  how  to  study,  and  that  his  most 
important  lessons  will  have  to  be  learned  after 
he  leaves  it. 

"  I  think  I  should  like  to  be  a  civil-engineer, 
anyhow,"  he  remarked,  after  a  thoughtful  pause, 
because  it  is  an  out-of-door  business." 

"  Yes,"  admitted  the  other,  "  it  is  to  a  great 
extent." 

Then  they  found  that  Glen's  clothing  was  dry 
enough  to  be  worn,  and  also  that  it  was  dinner 
time.  So,  after  Mr.  Hobart  had  shaken  hands 
with  the  boy,  and  said  he  hoped  to  see  him  again 
before  long,  they  separated. 

That  afternoon  Glen,  still  wearing  a  perplexed 
expression  on  his  usually  merry  face,  walked 
down  to  the  mill  and  looked  in  at  its  open  door. 
It  was  so  hot  and  dusty  and  noisy  that  he  did 
not  care  to  stay  there  very  long.  He  had  been 
familiar  with  it  all  his  life ;  but  never  before  had 
it  struck  him  as  such  an  unpleasant  place  to  work 
in,  day  after  day,  month  after  month,  and  even 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  39 

year  after  year,  as  it  did  now.  How  hard  people 
did  have  to  work,  anyway !  He  had  never  real 
ized  it  before.  Still,  working  in  a  mill  must  be 
a  little  harder  than  anything  else.  At  any  rate, 
he  certainly  would  not  choose  to  earn  his  living 
there. 

Then  he  walked  down  to  Deacon  Brown's  store. 
The  deacon  did  a  large  retail  business ;  this  was 
a  busy  afternoon,  and  the  place  was  filled  with 
customers.  How  tired  the  clerks  looked,  and 
what  pale  faces  they  had.  How  people  both 
ered  them  with  questions,  and  called  on  them  to 
attend  to  half  a  dozen  things  at  once.  How  close 
and  stuffy  the  air  of  the  store  was.  It  was  almost 
as  bad  as  that  of  the  mill.  Then,  too,  the  store 
was  kept  open  hours  after  the  mill  had  shut 
down ;  for  its  evening  trade  was  generally  very 
brisk.  It  did  not  seem  half  so  attractive  a  place 
to  Glen  now  as  it  had  at  other  times,  when  he 
had  visited  it  solely  with  a  view  of  making  some 
small  purchase.  Perhaps  going  to  school,  and 
keeping  up  with  one's  class,  was  not  the  hardest 
thing  in  the  world  after  all. 

So  the  poor  boy  returned  home,  more  per 
plexed  as  to  what  he  should  do  than  ever,  and 
he  actually  dreaded  the  after-supper  talk  with 
his  adopted  father  that  he  usually  enjoyed  so 
much. 


40  Campmates. 

When  the  time  came,  and  Mr.  Matherson  asked, 
kindly,  «  Well,  my  boy,  what  have  you  decided 
to  do  ?"  Glen  was  obliged  to  confess  that  he  was 
just  as  far  from  a  decision  as  he  had  been  the 
evening  before. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

RECEIVING   AN    OFFER   AND   ACCEPTING   IT. 

"WELL, that  is  bad,"  said  the  master  mechanic, 
when  Glen  told  him  that  he  had  been  unable  to 
arrive  at  any  decision  in  regard  to  going  to  work. 
"  It  is  bad,  for  I  can't  see  that  there  is  anything 
open  to  you  just  now,  except  one  of  the  two 
things  we  talked  about  last  evening.  At  the 
same  time,  I  hate  to  compel  you,  or  even  per 
suade  you,  to  do  anything  that  is  hard  and  dis 
tasteful.  If  you  were  a  year  younger,  I  should 
say,  '  Spend  your  vacation  as  you  always  have 
done,  and  have  as  good  a  time  as  you  know  how, 
without  worrying  about  the  future.'  At  seven 
teen,  though,  a  boy  should  begin  to  look  ahead, 
and  take  some  decisive  step  in  the  direction  of 
his  future  career.  If  he  decides  to  study,  he 
should  also  decide  what  he  wants  to  study  for. 
If  he  decides  to  work,  he  should  have  some  ob 
ject  to  Avork  for,  and  should  turn  all  his  energies 
in  that  direction.  I  declare,  Glen,  I  hardly  know 
how  to  advise  you  in  this  matter.  Do  you  think 
of  any  particular  thing  you  would  rather  do,  or 


1$  Campmates. 

try  to  be  ?  If  so,  and  I  can  help  you  to  it,  you 
know  how  gladly  I  will,  in  every  way  that  lies 
in  my  power." 

"It  seems  to  me  I  would  rather  be  a  civil- 
engineer  than  anything  else,"  answered  the  boy, 
a  little  hesitatingly. 

"A  civil -engineer!"  exclaimed  the  other,  in 
surprise ;  "  why,  Glen,  lad,  don't  you  know  that 
it  takes  the  hardest  kind  of  study  to  be  that  ?" 

Just  then  their  conversation  was  interrupted 
by  the  arrival  of  a  visitor,  who,  to  Glen's  sur 
prise,  was  none  other  than  Mr.  Hobart,  the  en 
gineer  whose  position  he  had  been  thinking  of 
as  one  of  the  most  desirable  in  the  world. 

After  a  few  moments'  pleasant  chat  the  visitor 
asked  Mr.  Matherson  if  he  could  have  a  private 
business  talk  with  him.  So  Glen  left  the  room, 
and  wandered  restlessly  about  the  house,  filled 
with  a  lively  curiosity  as  to  what  business  the 
engineer  could  have  with  his  adopted  father. 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Hobart  was  saying,  "  I 
have  known  your  son  for  some  time  by  sight, 
Mr.  Matherson,  and  took  a  fancy  to  him  from 
the  first.  We  only  got  acquainted  to-day,  when 
he  performed  an  act  of  daring  in  my  presence, 
and  at  the  same  time  rendered  me  an  important 
service.  I  find  him  to  be  exactly  such  a  boy  as 
I  supposed  he  was;  a  generous-hearted,  manly 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  43 

fellow,  who  is  just  now  unhappy  and  discontent 
ed  because  he  has  no  particular  aim  in  life,  and 
does  not  know  what  he  wants  to  do." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Matherson,  "  that  is  just  the 
trouble ;  and  the  worst  of  it  is  that  I  don't  know 
what  to  advise  him." 

"  Then,  perhaps,  I  am  just  in  time  to  help  you. 
My  work  here  is  about  finished,  and  in  a  few 
days  I  am  to  leave  for  Kansas,  where  I  am  to 
take  charge  of  a  locating-party  on  one  of  the  Pa 
cific  railroads.  If  you  are  willing  to  let  Glen  go 
with  me,  I  can  make  a  place  for  him  in  this  party. 
The  pay  will  only  be  thirty  dollars  per  month, 
besides  his  expenses ;  but,  by  the  end  of  the  sum 
mer,  I  believe  he  will  have  gained  more  valuable 
knowledge  and  experience  than  he  could  in  a 
year  of  home  and  school  life.  I  believe,  too, 
in  that  time  I  can  show  him  the  value  of  an 
education  and  the  necessity  of  studying  for  it. 
Now,  without  really  knowing  anything  about  it, 
he  thinks  he  would  like  to  become  a  civil-engi 
neer.  After  a  few  months'  experience  in  the  un 
settled  country  to  which  I  am  going  he  will  have 
seen  the  rough  side  of  the  life,  and  can  decide 
intelligently  whether  he  desires  to  continue  in 
it  or  not." 

Mr.  Matherson  could  hardly  restrain  his  delight 
at  the  prospect  of  such  an  opening  for  the  boy 


44  *  Campmates. 

whom  he  loved  so  dearly ;  but  he  was  too  honest 
to  let  him  start  out  under  false  colors ;  so  he 
said, 

"  I  can  never  tell  you  how  grateful  I  am  for 
this  oifer,  sir ;  but  I  don't  want  you  to  think  that 
my  boy  is  any  better  than  he  really  is.  He  is 
not  a  good  scholar,  and  seems  to  lack  applica 
tion.  Even  now  he  is  in  danger  of  being  turned 
back  a  whole  year  in  school  because  he  has  failed 
to  keep  up  with  his  class." 

"  I  know  all  that,"  replied  Mr.  Hobart,  smil 
ing  ;  "  and  it  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  I  want 
him  to  go  with  me.  I  was  very  much  such  a 
boy  myself,  and  think  I  understand  his  state  of 
mind  perfectly.  He  has  reached  the  most  try 
ing  period  of  his  life,  and  the  one  where  he  most 
needs  encouragement  and  help.  He  has  a  suffi 
ciently  good  education  to  build  on,  and  is  bright 
enough  to  comprehend  things  that  are  clearly 
explained  to  him.  As  for  his  having  no  knowl 
edge  of  the  peculiar  studies  necessary  for  an  en 
gineer,  I  am  glad  that  he  hasn't.  I  believe  that 
it  is  better  for  all  boys  to  gain  some  practical 
knowledge  of  the  business  they  intend  to  follow 
before  they  really  begin  to  study  for  it.  A  few 
months  or  a  year  of  practice  shows  them  in  what 
they  are  deficient  and  what  they  need  to  learn. 
I  could  get  plenty  of  young  fellows  to  go  out  to 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  45 

Kansas  with  me  who  are  crammed  with  theoret 
ical  knowledge  of  surveying  and  engineering,  but 
who  are  ignorant  of  its  practice.  Such  chaps 
think  they  know  it  all,  and  are  impatient  of  crit 
icism  or  advice.  I  can  get  along  better  with  one 
who  knows  little  or  nothing  to  begin  with,  but 
who  is  bright  and  willing  to  learn.  In  the  end 
I  will  guarantee  to  make  such  a  one  the  more 
valuable  engineer  of  the  two." 

"  It  is  a  new  idea  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Matherson, 
reflectively,  "  but  I  believe  you  are  right." 

"  There  is  another  reason  why  I  fancy  your 
boy,  and  think  I  can  make  an  engineer  of  him," 
continued  Mr.  Hobart.  "  His  physical  condition 
seems  to  me  to  be  perfect.  As  they  say  of  prize 
animals,  he  seems  to  be  sound  in  wind  and  limb, 
and  without  a  blemish.  Now,  the  life  of  an  en 
gineer,  particularly  in  unsettled  countries,  is  a 
hard  one.  He  is  exposed  to  all  sorts  of  weather ; 
must  often  sleep  without  a  shelter  of  any  kind, 
and  must  work  hard  from  early  dawn  until  late  at 
night,  sometimes  on  a  scanty  allowance  of  food. 
It  is  as  hard  as,  and  in  many  cases  harder  than, 
active  service  in  the  army.  It  is  no  life  for  weak 
lings,  and  we  do  not  want  them ;  but,  from  what 
I  have  seen  of  your  boy,  I  do  not  believe  that 
even  you  can  point  out  any  physical  defect  in  his 
make-up." 


JfB  Campmates. 

"  No,  I  certainly  cannot,"  replied  Mr.  Mather- 
son,  heartily,  glad  of  a  chance  to  praise  his  hoy 
without  qualification,  in  at  least  one  respect.  "I 
believe  him  to  be  physically  perfect,  and  I  know 
that  there  is  not  a  boy  of  his  age  in  town  who 
is  his  match  in  strength,  agility,  or  daring." 

"So  you  see,"  laughed  the  engineer,  "he  is 
exactly  the  boy  I  want ;  and  if  you  will  let  him 
go  with  me  I  shall  consider  that  you  have  con 
ferred  a  favor." 

"  Of  course  I  will  let  him  go,  sir,  and  shall  feel 
forever  grateful  to  you  for  the  offer." 

Thus  it  was  all  settled,  and  Glen  was  summoned 
to  hear  the  result  of  the  few  minutes'  conversa 
tion  by  which  the  whole  course  of  his  life  was  to 
be  changed.  By  it,  too,  he  was  to  be  lifted  in  a 
moment  from  the  depths  of  despondency  and  un 
certainty  to  such  a  height  of  happiness  as  he  had 
not  dared  dream  of,  much  less  hope  for.  The 
moment  he  entered  the  room  he  was  assured,  by 
the  smiling  faces  of  its  occupants,  that  their  topic 
of  conversation  had  been  a  pleasant  one;  but 
when  its  nature  was  explained  to  him  he  could 
hardly  credit  his  senses. 

Would  he  like  to  go  out  to  Kansas  for  the 
summer?  —  to  a  land  still  occupied  by  wild  In 
dians  and  buffalo  ?  The  idea  of  asking  him  such 
a  question!  There  was  nothing  in  the  whole 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  fa 

world  he  would  like  better !  Why,  it  was  almost 
as  good  as  the  position  offered  to  Binney  G-ibbs ; 
and,  certainly,  no  boy  could  ever  hope  for  any 
thing  more  splendid  than  that.  In  two  respects 
he  considered  himself  even  more  fortunate  than 
Binney.  One  was  that  he  was  to  go  with  Mr. 
Hobart,  whom  he  had  come  to  regard  with  an 
intense  admiration  as  one  of  the  wisest  and  kind 
est  of  men.  The  other  was  that  they  were  to 
start  on  the  third  day  from  that  time,  while  Bin 
ney  would  not  go  for  nearly  two  weeks  yet. 

What  busy  days  the  next  two  were!  How 
Glen  did  fly  around  with  his  preparations !  How 
interested  Mr.  Hobart  was,  and  how  he  laughed 
at  many  of  the  excited  boy's  questions !  Ought 
he  to  have  a  buckskin  suit  and  a  broad-brimmed 
hat?  Should  he  need  any  other  weapons  be 
sides  a  revolver  and  a  bowie-knife  ?  Would  it  be 
better  to  take  long-legged  leather  boots  or  rub 
ber-boots,  or  both?  How  large  a  trunk  ought 
he  to  have  ? 

His  outfit,  prepared  by  Mr.  Hobart' s  advice, 
finally  consisted  of  two  pairs  of  double  blankets, 
rolled  up  in  a  rubber  sheet  and  securely  corded, 
two  pairs  of  easy,  laced  walking-shoes,  and  one 
pair  of  leather  leggings,  three  flannel  shirts,  three 
suits  of  under-clothing,  and  six  pairs  of  socks, 
one  warm  coat,  two  pairs  of  trousers,  a  soft,  gray 


48  Gampmates. 

felt  hat,  half  a  dozen  silk  handkerchiefs,  and  the 
same  number  of  towels.  Of  these  he  would  wear, 
from  the  start,  the  hat,  coat,  one  of  the  flannel 
shirts,  one  of  the  two  pairs  of  trousers,  a  suit  of 
underclothing,  one  of  the  silk  handkerchiefs  knot 
ted  about  his  neck,  and  one  of  the  pairs  of  shoes. 
All  the  rest  could  easily  be  got  into  a  small  leath 
ern  valise,  which  would  be  as  much  of  a  trunk 
as  he  would  be  allowed  to  carry. 

He  would  need  a  stout  leather  belt,  to  which 
should  be  slung  a  good  revolver  in  a  holster,  a 
common  sheath-knife,  that  need  not  cost  more 
than  thirty  cents,  and  a  small  tin  cup  that  could 
be  bought  for  five. 

Besides  these  things,  Mrs.  Matherson,  who  loved 
the  boy  as  though  he  were  her  own,  tucked  into 
the  valise  a  small  case  of  sewing  materials,  a 
brush,  comb,  cake  of  soap,  tooth-brush,  hand 
glass,  and  a  Testament  in  which  his  name  was 
written. 

On  the  very  day  of  his  departure  his  adopted 
father  presented  the  delighted  boy  with  a  light 
rifle  of  the  very  latest  pattern.  It  was,  of  course, 
a  breech-loader,  and  carried  six  extra  cartridges 
in  its  magazine.  In  its  neat  canvas-case,  Glen 
thought  it  was  the  very  handsomest  weapon  he 
had  ever  seen,  and  the  other  boys  thought  so  too. 

With  them  he  was  the  hero  of  the  hour,  and 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  49 

even  Binney  Gibbs's  glittering  prospects  were 
almost  forgotten,  for  the  time  being,  in  this  more 
immediate  excitement. 

Of  course  they  all  gathered  at  the  railway  sta 
tion  to  see  him  start  on  the  morning  of  the  ap 
pointed  day.  It  seemed  as  though  almost  every 
body  else  in  the  village  was  there,  too.  Binney 
Gibbs  was  among  the  very  few  of  Glen's  acquaint 
ances  who  did  not  come.  So,  amid  tears  and 
laughter,  good  wishes  and  loud  cheerings,  the 
train  rolled  away,  bearing  Glen  Eddy  from  the 
only  home  he  had  ever  known  towards  the  excit 
ing  scenes  of  the  new  life  that  awaited  him  in 
the  far  West. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ACROSS  THE  MISSISSIPPI. 

before,  since  he  was  first  carried  to 
Brimfield  as  a  baby,  had  Glen  been  away  from 
there ;  so,  from  the  very  outset,  the  journey  on 
which  he  had  now  started,  in  company  with  Mr. 
Hobart,  was  a  wonderful  one.  In  school,  besides 
history,  he  had  enjoyed  the  study  of  geography, 
being  especially  fond  of  poring  over  maps  and 
tracing  out  imaginary  journeys.  In  this  way  he 
had  gained  a  fair  idea  of  the  route  Mr.  Hobart 
and  he  were  to  pursue,  as  well  as  of  the  cities 
and  other  places  of  interest  they  were  to  see. 
There  was  one  place,  however,  for  which  he  was 
not  prepared.  It  was  early  in  the  first  night  of 
the  journey,  and  the  boy  had  just  fallen  into  a 
doze  in  his  sleeping-car  berth.  As  the  night  was 
warm,  and  there  was  no  dust,  the  car  door  was 
open,  and  through  it  came  a  sudden  shout  of 
"  Glen  Eddy !  Glen  Eddy !" 

As  Glen  started  up,  wide  awake,  and  answer 
ing  "  Here  I  am,"  the  train  rumbled  over  a  bridge. 
Then  it  stopped,  and  the  meaning  of  the  shout 


A  Story  of  ike' Plains.  51 

flashed  into  the  boy's  mind.  He  was  at  the  very 
place  where,  so  long  ago,  he  had  lost  a  father  or 
mother,  or  both.  All  the  details  of  that  awful 
scene,  as  described  by  his  adopted  father,  ap 
peared  vividly  before  him,  and  he  seemed  to  see, 
through  a  gray  dawn,  the  mass  of  splintered 
wreckage  nearly  covered  by  angry  waters,  the 
floating  car  seat  with  its  tiny  human  burden,  and 
the  brave  swimmer  directing  it  towards  land. 

The  train  stopped  but  a  moment,  and  then 
moved  on.  As  it  did  so,  Glen,  who  was  in  an 
upper  berth,  heard  a  deep  sigh,  that  sounded 
almost  like  a  groan,  coming  apparently  from 
a  lower  berth  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  car. 
Directly  afterwards  he  heard  a  low  voice  ask, 
respectfully,  "  What  is  it,  Governor  ?  Are  you 
in  pain  ?  Can  I  do  anything  3" 

"  Nothing,  Price,  thank  you.  I  had  a  sort  of 
nightmare,  that's  all,"  was  the  reply,  and  then 
all  was  again  quiet. 

Glen  wished  he  might  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
person  who  spoke  last,  for  he  had  never  seen  a 
governor,  and  wondered  in  what  way  he  would 
look  different  from  other  men.  He  would  try 
and  see  him  in  the  morning.  Thus  thinking,  he 
fell  asleep. 

The  next  morning  he  was  awakened  by  Mr. 
Hobart,  and  told  to  dress  as  quickly  as  possible, 


62  Cam/pmates. 

for  they  were  within  a  few  miles  of  East  St. 
Louis,  and  would  soon  cross  the  Mississippi. 
This  news  drove  all  other  thoughts  from  the 
boy's  mind,  and  he  hurried  through  his  toilet, 
full  of  excitement  at  the  prospect  of  seeing  the 
mightiest  of  American  rivers. 

There  was  no  bridge  across  the  Mississippi 
then,  either  at  St.  Louis  or  elsewhere.  Great 
four -horse  transfer  coaches  from  the  several 
hotels  were  waiting  for  passengers  beside  the 
train  where  it  stopped,  and  these  were  borne  to 
the  opposite  bank  by  a  steam  ferry-boat  with  a 
peculiar  name  and  of  peculiar  construction.  The 
Caholcia  looked  like  a  regular  river  steamer,  ex 
cept  that  she  had  no  visible  paddle-wheels,  not 
even  one  behind,  like  a  wheelbarrow,  as  some  of 
the  very  shoal-draught  boats  had.  For  some  time 
Glen  could  not  discover  what  made  her  go,  though 
go  she  certainly  did,  moving  swiftly  and  easily 
across  the  broad  expanse  of  tawny  waters  towards 
the  smoky  city  on  its  farther  bank.  He  would 
not  ask  Mr.  Hobart,  for  he  loved  to  puzzle  things 
out  for  himself  if  he  possibly  could.  At  length 
he  discovered  that  the  boat  was  double-hulled, 
and  that  its  single  paddle-wheel  was  located  be 
tween  the  two  hulls.  Glen  was  obliged  to  ask 
the  object  of  tnis ;  but  when  he  was  told  that  it 
was  to  protect  the  wheel  from  the  great  ice-cakes 


A  Story  of  the  Plams.  53 

that  floated  down  the  river  in  winter,  he  won 
dered  that  he  had  not  thought  of  that  himself. 

So  he  forgot  to  look  for  his  governor,  or  ask 
about  him  until  they  reached  the  hotel  where 
they  were  to  get  breakfast  and  spend  a  few  hours. 
Then  he  was  told  that  the  person  in  whom  he 
was  interested  was  probably  General  Elting,  who 
had  just  completed  a  term  of  office  as  governor 
of  one  of  the  territories,  and  who  was  now  acting 
as  treasurer  of  the  very  railroad  company  for 
which  he  was  to  work. 

Glen  regretted  not  having  seen  the  ex-governor, 
but  quickly  forgot  his  slight  disappointment  in 
the  more  novel  and  interesting  things  that  now 
attracted  his  attention.  He  had  never  been  in  a 
city  before,  and  was  very  glad  of  a  few  hours  in 
which  to  see  the  sights  of  this  one ;  for  the  train 
that  was  to  carry  them  to  Kansas  City  would  not 
leave  until  afternoon. 

As  the  offices  of  the  company  by  whom  Mr. 
Hobart  was  employed  were  in  St.  Louis,  he  was 
obliged  to  spend  all  his  time  in  them,  and  could 
not  go  about  with  Glen.  So,  only  charging  him 
to  be  on  hand  in  time  for  the  train,  the  engineer 
left  the  boy  to  his  own  devices. 

Glen  spent  most  of  his  time  on  the  broad  levee 
at  the  river's  edge,  where  he  was  fascinated  by  the 
great  steamboats,  with  their  lofty  pilot-houses,  tall 


5Jf  Cainpmates. 

chimneys,  roaring  furnaces,  and  crews  of  shout 
ing  negroes,  that  continually  came  and  went. 

This  seemed  to  be  their  grand  meeting-point. 
On  huge  placards,  swung  above  their  gang-planks, 
Glen  read  that  some  of  them  were  bound  for 
New  Orleans  and  all  intermediate  ports.  Then 
there  were  boats  for  the  Red,  Arkansas,  Yazoo, 
Ohio,  Illinois,  Missouri,  and  a  dozen  other  rivers, 
tributary  to  the  great  Father  of  Waters.  Still 
others  were  bound  for  Northern  ports,  even  as  far 
as  distant  St.  Paul,  in  Minnesota. 

Two  o'clock  found  the  boy  at  the  railway  sta 
tion,  standing  beside  the  car  in  which  all  his  be 
longings  were  already  safely  deposited,  waiting 
anxiously  for  Mr.  Hobart.  Just  as  the  train  was 
about  to  start,  that  gentleman  rushed  into  the 
station. 

"  Jump  aboard,  Glen,"  he  said,  hurriedly,  "  and 
go  on  to  Kansas  City  with  the  baggage.  Here 
is  your  pass  and  a  note  to  Mr.  Brackett.  Eeport 
to  him  at  the  Kaw  House.  I  am  detained  here 
by  business,  but  will  join  you  to-morrow  or  next 
day.  Good-bye." 

The  train  was  already  in  motion,  and  in  an 
other  moment  the  boy  had  lost  sight  of  his  only 
friend  in  that  part  of  the  world,  and  was  whirl 
ing  away  towards  an  unknown  destination.  He 
felt  rather  lonely  and  forlorn  at  thus  being  cast 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  55 

upon  his  own  resources,  but  at  the  same  time  he 
felt  proud  of  the  confidence  reposed  in  him,  and 
glad  of  an  opportunity  to  prove  how  well  he 
could  take  care  of  himself. 

For  several  hours  he  was  interested  in  watch 
ing  the  rapidly  changing  features  of  the  land 
scape  ;  but  after  a  while  he  grew  weary  of  this, 
and  began  to  study  his  fellow-passengers.  There 
were  not  many  in  the  sleeper,  and  the  only  ones 
near  him  in  whom  he  took  an  interest  were  a 
little  girl,  five  or  six  years  old,  who  was  running 
up  and  down  the  aisle,  and  a  lady,  evidently  the 
child's  mother,  who  sat  opposite  to  him.  As  he 
watched  the  little  one  she  tripped  and  would 
have  fallen  had  he  not  sprung  forward  and  caught 
her.  The  child  smiled  at  him,  the  mother  thanked 
him,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  found  himself  play 
ing  with  the  former  and  amusing  himself  in  en 
tertaining  her. 

She  told  him  that  her  name  was  Nettie  Winn ; 
but  that  her  papa,  who  lived  a  long  way  off,  and 
whom  she  was  going  to  see,  called  her  "Nettle." 
She  was  a  bright,  sunny -haired  little  thing,  who 
evidently  regarded  elder  people  as  having  been 
created  especially  for  her  amusement  and  to  obey 
her  orders.  As,  in  obedience  to  one  of  these,  the 
boy  carried  her  in  his  arms  to  the  forward  end  of 
the  car  that  she  might  look  out  of  the  window  in 


56  Campmates. 

the  door,  a  fine-looking  middle-aged  gentleman 
spoke  to  him,  remarking  that  he  seemed  very 
fond  of  children. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  am,"  answered  Glen,  "  for  I  have 
two  little  sisters  at  home." 

They  exchanged  a  few  more  words,  and  Glen 
was  so  attracted  by  the  stranger's  appearance 
and  manner  that  after  the  tired  child  had  gone 
to  sleep  with  her  head  in  her  mother's  lap,  he 
again  walked  to  the  end  of  the  car  in  hopes  that 
the  gentleman  might  be  inclined  to  renew  their 
conversation.  Nor  was  he  disappointed  ;  for  the 
stranger  welcomed  him  with  a  smile,  made  room 
on  the  seat  beside  him,  and  they  were  soon  en 
gaged  in  a  pleasant  chat. 

It  is  not  hard  for  a  man  of  tact  to  win  the  con 
fidence  of  a  boy,  so  that,  before  long,  the  gentle 
man  knew  that  this  was  Glen's  first  journey  from 
home,  and  that  he  was  going  to  Kansas  to  learn 
to  be  an  engineer. 

"Do  you  mean  a  civil -engineer?"  he  asked, 
"  or  an  engine-driver  ?" 

"  Oh,  a  civil-engineer,  of  course !"  answered  the 
boy ;  "  for  I  can  run  a  locomotive  now,  almost  as 
well  as  father,  and  that  used  to  be  his  business." 

Then  he  explained  that  his  father,  who  was 
now  a  master  mechanic,  had  given  him  careful 
instruction  in  the  art  of  running  a  pony  switch 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  57 

engine  that  belonged  to  the  Brimfield  Mills,  and 
that  once,  when  the  engine-driver  was  ill,  he  had 
been  placed  in  charge  of  it  for  a  whole  day. 

"  That  is  a  most  useful  accomplishment,"  re 
marked  the  gentleman,  "and  one  that  I  should 
be  glad  to  acquire  myself." 

When  the  train  stopped  at  an  eating  station 
they  went  in  to  supper  together,  and  Glen  began 
to  think  that,  in  his  new  friend,  he  had  found  a 
second  Mr.  Hobart,  which  was  the  very  nicest 
thing  he  could  think  about  anybody. 

The  boy  did  not  forget  to  carry  a  cup  of  tea 
and  a  glass  of  rnilk  into  the  car  for  Mrs.  Winn 
and  Nettie,  for  which  act  of  thoughtfulness  he 
was  rewarded  by  a  grateful  smile  and  hearty 
thanks. 

He  wondered  somewhat  at  the  several  men 
who  every  now  and  then  came  into  the  car  and 
exchanged  a  few  words  in  low  tone  with  his 
other  train  acquaintance,  and  also  wondered  that 
the  gentleman  should  leave  the  car  and  walk 
towards  the  forward  end  of  the  train  every  time 
it  stopped  at  a  station. 

Glen  was  so  tired  that  he  had  his  berth  made 
up  and  turned  in  very  early ;  but  for  a  long  time 
found  himself  unable  to  sleep,  so  busy  were  his 
thoughts.  At  length,  however,  he  fell  into  a 
sound,  dreamless  slumber,  that  lasted  for  hours, 


58  Campmates. 

though    he   knew  nothing   of   the  passage   of 
time. 

He  was  suddenly  awakened  by  a  loud  noise, 
and  found  himself  sitting  bolt  upright  in  his 
berth,  listening,  bewildered  and  half  frightened, 
to  a  confused  sound  of  pistol-shots,  shouts,  and 
screams.  The  train  was  motionless.  The  screams 
were  evidently  those  of  fright,  and  came  from 
the  car  he  was  in,  while  the  other  and  more 
terrifying  sounds  reached  his  ears  from  some 
distance. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

GLEN  RUNS   A   LOCOMOTIVE. 

SPRINGING  from  his  berth,  Glen  began  hastily 
to  put  on  his  shoes  and  the  few  articles  of  cloth 
ing  he  had  laid  aside.  Several  other  passengers 
were  doing  the  same  thing,  and  each  was  ask 
ing  the  others  what  had  happened ;  but  nobody 
knew.  All  the  alarming  sounds  had  now  ceased, 
even  the  women  who  had  screamed  being  quiet, 
in  the  hope  of  discovering  the  cause  of  their 
terror. 

Glen  was  the  first  to  leave  the  car,  and,  seeing 
a  confused  movement  of  lanterns  at  the  forward 
end  of  the  train,  he  began  to  run  in  that  direc 
tion.  It  was  still  dark,  though  there  were  signs 
of  dawn  in  the  sky.  The  train  was  not  stopped 
at  a  station,  but  in  a  thick  woods.  As  the  boy 
reached  the  baggage-car,  he  was  horrified  to  see 
that  several  men  were  lifting  a  limp  and  appar 
ently  lifeless  body  into  it.  The  sight  made  him 
feel  sick  and  faint.  He  stood  for  a  moment  ir 
resolute.  Then,  two  men,  one  of  whom  carried 
a  lantern,  came  rapidly  towards  him. 


60  Campmates. 

"  Here  he  is,  now !"  exclaimed  one  of  them,  as 
the  light  from  the  lantern  fell  on  the  boy's  face. 
Glen  recognized  the  voice.  It  was  that  of  his 
recent  acquaintance.  Now  he  was  coatless 
and  bare-headed.  In  his  hand  was  a  Colt's  re 
volver.  The  other  man  was  the  conductor  of 
the  train. 

"  This  gentleman  says  you  can  run  a  locomo 
tive.  Is  that  so  ?"  asked  the  conductor,  holding 
up  his  lantern  and  scanning  Glen's  face  keenly. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  boy,  "  I  can." 

"  Well,  it  looks  like  taking  an  awful  risk  to 
trust  a  boy  as  young  as  you ;  but  I  don't  know 
what  else  we  can  do.  Our  engineer  has  just  been 
killed,  and  the  fireman  is  badly  wounded.  Two 
more  men  are  hurt,  and  we've  got  to  get  them 
to  a  doctor  as  quick  as  we  can.  It's  fifty  miles 
to  Kansas  City,  and  there's  only  one  telegraph 
station  between  here  and  there.  It's  ten  miles 
ahead.  We'll  stop  there,  and  send  a  despatch. 
Will  you  undertake  to  run  us  in  ?" 

"  Let  me  look  at  the  engine  first,  and  then  I'll 
tell  you,"  answered  Glen,  his  voice  trembling 
with  excitement  in  spite  of  his  efforts  to  appear 
calm. 

The  three  went  to  the  panting  locomotive  and 
swung  themselves  up  into  its  cab.  Glen  shud 
dered  as  he  thought  of  the  tragedy  just  enacted 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  61 

in  that  cab,  and  almost  drew  back  as  he  entered 
it.  Then,  controlling  himself  by  a  determined 
effort,  he  gauged  the  water,  tested  the  steam, 
threw  the  lever  over  and  back,  opened  the  fur 
nace  door,  glanced  at  the  amount  of  fuel  in  the 
tender,  and  did  it  all  with  such  a  business-like 
air  and  appearance  of  knowing  what  he  was 
about  as  to  inspire  both  the  men,  who  were 
watching  him  closely,  with  confidence. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  at  length,  "  I'll  take  her  in ; 
but  we  shall  need  some  more  water." 

"  Good  for  you,  son  1"  cried  the  conductor. 
"  You're  a  trump !  and  I  for  one  believe  you'll 
do  it." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  the  passenger ;  "  and  I'm 
thankful  we've  got  such  a  plucky  young  engine- 
driver  along." 

"  But  who  will  fire  ?"  asked  Glen,  hardly  hear 
ing  these  remarks,  though,  at  the  same  time, 
sufficiently  conscious  of  them  to  feel  gratified 
that  he  had  inspired  such  confidence. 

"  I  will,"  replied  the  passenger,  promptly. 

"  You,  general !"  cried  the  conductor  in  aston 
ishment. 

"  Certainly !     "Why  not  I  as  well  as  another  ?" 

"Yery  well,"  responded  the  conductor,  "I'm 
only  too  glad  to  have  you  do  it,  if  you  will ;  then 
let  us  be  off  at  once."  And,  springing  to  the 


68  Campmatea. 

ground,  he  shouted,  "All  aboard!  Hurry  up, 
gentlemen,  we  are  about  to  move  on." 

But  Glen  would  not  start  until  he  had  taken 
a  flaring  torch  and  the  engine-driver's  long-nosed 
oil-can,  and  walked  all  around  the  locomotive, 
examining  every  part  of  the  huge  machine,  pour 
ing  on  a  little  oil  here  and  there,  and  making  sure 
that  everything  was  in  perfect  working  order. 

Then  he  again  swung  himself  into  the  cab, 
pulled  the  whistle  lever  for  one  short,  sharp  blast, 
opened  the  throttle  slowly,  and  the  train  was 
once  more  in  motion. 

It  had  hardly  gone  a  hundred  yards  before  two 
rifle-shots  rang  out  of  the  forest,  and  one  ball 
crashed  through  both  windows  of  the  cab,  but 
without  harming  its  occupants.  Glen  started; 
but  his  hand  did  not  leave  the  throttle,  nor  did  his 
gaze  swerve  for  an  instant  from  the  line  of  gleam 
ing  track  ahead.  He  had  no  time  then  to  think 
of  his  own  safety.  He  was  too  busy  thinking  of 
the  safety  of  those  so  suddenly  and  unexpectedly 
intrusted  to  him. 

The  new  fireman  glanced  at  him  admiringly, 
and  murmured  to  himself,  "  That  boy  is  made 
of  clear  grit.  I  would  that  I  had  a  son  like  him." 

This  man,  who  was  heaving  great  chunks  of 
wood  into  the  roaring  furnace  with  the  strength 
and  ease  of  a  trained  athlete,  formed  no  unpleas- 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  63 

ant  picture  to  look  upon  himself.  He  was  tall 
and  straight,  with  a  keen,  resolute  face,  an  iron- 
gray,  military  moustache,  and  close-cropped  hair. 
He  looked  not  only  like  a  soldier,  but  like  one 
well  accustomed  to  command.  At  the  same  time 
he  obeyed  promptly,  and  without  question,  every 
order  issued  by  the  young  engine-driver  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  cab. 

As  the  train  dashed  along  at  full  speed  there 
was  no  chance  for  conversation  between  the  two, 
even  had  they  felt  inclined  for  it.  Both  were 
too  fully  engaged  in  peering  ahead  along  the  un 
familiar  line  of  track  to  pay  attention  to  aught 
else. 

Presently  the  conductor  clambered  over  the 
tender  from  the  baggage-car,  and  stood  in  the 
cab  with  them,  to  post  Glen  as  to  the  grades  and 
crossings. 

It  lacked  a  few  seconds  of  fifteen  minutes  from 
the  time  of  their  starting,  when  they  slowed  down 
for  the  telegraph-station,  the  lights  of  which  were 
twinkling  just  ahead.  Here,  while  the  conductor 
roused  the  operator,  and  sent  his  despatch,  the 
locomotive  was  run  up  to  the  tank,  and  a  fresh 
supply  of  water  was  taken  aboard. 

Then  they  were  off  again — this  time  for  a  run 
of  forty  miles  without  a  stop  or  check.  Day 
light  was  coming  on  so  rapidly  now  that  the 


64  Campmates. 

track  was  plainly  visible  by  it,  and  thus  one 
source  of  anxiety  was  removed. 

Up  to  this  time  Glen  had  no  idea  of  what  had 
happened,  nor  of  the  cause  of  the  shooting  that 
had  resulted  so  disastrously.  Now,  though  he 
did  not  turn  his  head,  he  learned,  from  the  con 
versation  between  the  conductor  and  his  fireman, 
whom  the  former  called  "  General,"  that  an  at 
tempt  had  been  made  to  rob  the  train  of  a  large 
sum  of  money  that  the  latter  had  placed  in  a 
safe  in  the  express-car.  He  had  received  secret 
information  that  such  an  attempt  would  probably 
be  made,  and  had  engaged  two  detectives  in  St. 
Louis  to  guard  his  treasure.  When  the  train  was 
stopped  in  the  woods  by  a  danger  signal  waved 
across  the  track,  the  engine-driver  had  been  or 
dered  by  the  would-be  robbers,  who  had  cut  the 
express-car  loose  from  those  behind  it,  to  go 
ahead.  His  refusal  to  obey  them  had  cost  him 
his  life,  and  the  fireman  an  ugly  wound. 

The  general,  who  left  the  sleeper,  and  ran 
ahead  at  the  first  alarm,  had  shot  and  severely 
injured  two  of  the  robbers,  and  with  the  aid  of 
his  men  had  driven  the  rest  to  the  shelter  of  the 
forest  after  a  few  minutes  sharp  fighting.  The 
three  wounded  men,  together  with  the  body  of 
the  dead  engine-driver,  were  now  in  the  baggage- 
car  ;  while  the  train-load  of  passengers,  thanks 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  65 

to  the  practical  knowledge  of  a  sixteen-year-old 
boy,  and  the  pluck  that  enabled  him  to  utilize  it, 
were  rapidly  nearing  their  journey's  end  in  safety. 

An  anxious  crowd  was  gathered  about  the 
Kansas  City  station  as  the  train  rolled  slowly  up 
to  its  platform.  The  general  wrung  Glen's  hand 
warmly  as  he  said, 

"  God  bless  you,  boy,  for  what  you  have  just 
done.  I  will  see  you  again  in  a  few  minutes. 
Now  I  must  look  after  the  wounded  men." 

Thus  saying,  he  sprang  to  the  platform,  leav 
ing  Glen  in  the  cab  of  the  locomotive ;  but  when 
he  returned,  fifteen  minutes  later,  the  boy  had 
disappeared,  and  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

KANSAS   CITY   IN  EARLY  DAYS. 

THE  reason  that  Glen  Eddy  disappeared  after 
running  that  engine  so  splendidly,  and  bringing 
the  night  express  safely  to  its  destination,  was 
that  he  was  diffident  and  nervous.  Now  that 
the  strain  was  relaxed  and  he  had  time  to  think 
of  the  terrible  risks  run  by  that  train  while  under 
his  inexperienced  guidance,  he  was  seized  with  a 
sudden  fright.  Queerly  enough,  he  felt  almost 
guilty,  as  though  he  had  done  something  wrong, 
or  to  be  ashamed  of.  Suppose  somebody  should 
try  to  thank  him.  Suppose  the  crowd,  now  surg 
ing  about  the  door  of  the  baggage-car,  should 
turn  their  attention  to  him,  and  come  to  gaze  at 
him  as  a  part  of  the  show  that  had  attracted 
them.  What  should  he  do  in  either  case?  It 
would  be  unbearable.  He  must  make  good  his 
escape  before  either  of  these  things  happened. 

The  wounded  men  were  being  carefully  lifted 
from  one  side  of  the  baggage-car.  Everybody's 
cittention  was  for  the  moment  directed  to  that  spot. 
So  Glen  slipped  down  from  the  locomotive  cab 


A   Story  of  the  Plains.  67 

on  the  opposite  side,  and  ran  back  to  the  sleeper 
in  which  were  his  belongings.  The  car  was  de 
serted  and  empty.  Its  passengers,  and  everybody 
connected  with  it,  had  either  gone  up  town  or 
joined  the  curious  throng  about  the  baggage-car. 
Thus  nobody  saw  the  boy,  as,  securing  his 
valise  and  rifle,  he  slipped  from  the  rear  end  of 
the  car  and  walked  rapidly  away.  He  plunged 
into  one  of  the  tunnel-like  streets  running  back 
from  the  railroad,  not  knowing,  nor  caring,  where 
it  would  lead  him.  His  only  idea  was  to  escape, 
he  did  not  even  know  from  what.  It  had  so 
taken  possession  of  him,  that  he  almost  felt  as 
though  he  were  being  pursued,  with  the  danger, 
at  any  moment,  of  being  overtaken,  and  dragged 
ignominiously  back  to  be— thanked  and  made 
a  hero  of. 

Kansas  City,  which  has  since  enjoyed  such  an 
astonishing  growth  and  prosperity,  was  at  that 
time  very  young.  It  was  still  burrowing  through 
the  high  and  steep  bank  of  stiff  red  clay  that 
separated  its  river  front  from  the  main  street  of 
the  newer  portion  perched  on  the  bluff.  Several 
cross  streets,  connecting  these  two  parts  of  the 
city,  had  been  dug  out  with  infinite  labor,  to  a 
great  depth  through  the  red  clay,  and  it  was  up 
one  of  these  that  Glen  now  walked. 

He  was  so  far  below  the  level  of  the  airy  build- 


68  Campmates. 

ing-lots  on  either  side  that  he  could  not  see 
whether  they  were  occupied  or  not.  Only  an 
occasional  long  flight  of  wooden  steps,  leading 
up  from  the  street,  led  him  to  suppose  they  might 
be.  He  was  beginning  to  wonder  where  the  city 
was,  or  if  there  were  any  more  of  it  beyond  the 
straggling  business  street  that  bordered  the  rail 
road,  when  he  came  to  the  main  thoroughfare 
of  the  new  town,  and  gazed  about  him  with 
amazement.  Although  it  was  yet  so  early  that 
the  sun  had  only  just  risen,  the  broad  avenue 
presented  a  scene  of  the  most  lively  activity. 

In  Brimfield  the  erection  of  a  new  house,  or 
building  of  any  kind,  was  a  matter  of  general 
interest  that  afforded  a  topic  of  conversation  for 
weeks.  Here  were  dozens,  yes,  scores  of  them, 
springing  up  in  every  direction.  A  few  were  of 
brick;  but  most  of  those  intended  for  business 
purposes  were  long  and  low,  though  furnished 
with  pretentious  false  fronts  that  towered  as 
high  again  as  the  roof  itself.  Everywhere  was 
heard  the  din  of  hammer  and  saw,  or  the  ring 
of  the  mason's  trowel,  and  in  every  direction 
Glen  could  see  the  city  growing,  spreading,  and 
assuming  new  aspects  as  he  gazed. 

At  length  a  pang  of  hunger  recalled  him  to  his 
present  situation,  and  he  inquired  of  a  man,  wh£ 
was  hurrying  past,  the  way  to  the  Kaw  House- 


A  iStory  of  the  Plains.  69 

"  Up  there  a  piece,"  answered  the  man  almost 
without  pausing,  and  pointing  vaguely  up  the 
street.  "  There  comes  the  surveyor's  wagon  from 
there  now,"  he  added,  nodding  his  head  towards 
one,  drawn  by  two  mules,  that  was  dashing  in 
their  direction  at  that  moment. 

The  surveyor's  wagon.  Then,  perhaps,  Mr. 
Brackett  was  in  it,  thought  Glen.  Acting  on  the 
impulse  of  the  moment,  he  sprang  into  the  mid 
dle  of  the  street,  and  waved  his  rifle  in  the  faces 
of  the  advancing  mules.  The  driver  reined  them 
in  sharply,  and  the  team  came  to  a  standstill. 
"  Hello,  young  fellow,  what  do  you  want  now  ?" 
he  shouted. 

"I  want  to  know  if  Mr.  Brackett  is  in  this 
wagon,"  answered  Glen. 

"  Yes,  he  is,  and  that's  my  name,"  said  a  pleas 
ant-faced  young  man,  dressed  in  a  red-flannel 
shirt,  a  pair  of  army  trousers  tucked  into  his 
boot-legs,  and  what  had  once  been  a  stylish  cut 
away  coat,  who  sat  beside  the  driver.  "  What 
can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

For  answer  Glen  handed  him  Mr.  Hobart's 
note,  which  the  young  man  glanced  quickly 
through. 

"  I  see  by  this  that  you  are  to  be  a  member  of 
our  party,"  he  said,  as  he  finished  reading  it,  "  ana 
that  the  chief  will  not  be  here  for  a  day  or  two 


70  CatnpmaUs. 

yet.  I  am  very  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
Mr.  Matherson.  Boys,  this  is  Mr.  Glen  Math- 
erson,  our  new —  Well,  we  will  see  what  posi 
tion  he  will  occupy  later.  Now,  Matherson,  we 
are  off  for  our  day's  work.  Would  you  rather 
accompany  us  into  the  thick  of  the  fray,  or  will 
you  wend  your  weary  way  to  the  hotel,  and 
while  away  the  hours  until  our  return,  surround 
ed  by  its  gloomy  grandeur  ?" 

"  I  think  I  would  rather  go  with  you,  sir,"  re 
plied  Glen,  who  did  not  know  whether  to  laugh 
or  not  at  Mr,  Brackett's  words  and  tone. 

"  Tis  well,  and  go  with  us  you  shall.  So  tum 
ble  into  the  chariot,  and  stow  yourself  away 
wherever  you  can  find  room.  Then  let  us  on 
with  speed." 

"  But  I  left  Mr.  Eobart's  things  and  some  of 
my  own  on  board  the  train,"  said  Glen,  hesitat 
ingly,  "  and  here  are  the  checks  for  them." 

This  difficulty  was  settled  by  the  hailing  of  a 
dray,  and  instructing  its  driver  to  get  the  arti 
cles  called  for  by  the  checks,  and  carry  them, 
together  with  Glen's  valise,  to  the  hotel.  The 
boy  could  not  bear  to  trust  his  precious  rifle  out 
of  his  sight,  and  so  carried  it  with  him. 

They  had  hardly  started,  when  Mr.  Brackett 
turned  to  Glen  and  asked  him  if  he  had  been  to 
breakfast. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  71 

This  was  a  question  in  which  the  boy  was 
greatly  interested  just  at  that  moment,  and  he 
answered  very  promptly  that  he  had  not. 

"  Well,  here's  a  go !"  exclaimed  the  other. 
"  A  rule  of  this  party  is,  Matherson,  and  I  hope 
I  shall  never  be  obliged  to  repeat  it  to  you, 
that  if  a  man  hath  not  eaten,  neither  shall  he 
work.  It  is  now  too  late  to  return  to  Delmoni- 
co's,  so  we  must  intrust  you  to  the  tender  mer 
cies  of  the  Princess,  and  may  she  have  mercy 
upon  your  appetite.  Joe,  drive  to  the  palace." 

The  "  palace  "  proved  to  be  a  patchwork  shanty 
of  the  most  unique  and  surprising  description. 
It  was  constructed  of  bits  of  board,  pieces  of 
boxes  and  barrels,  stray  shingles  and  clapboards, 
roofing-paper,  and  a  variety  of  other  odds  and 
ends.  Its  doors  and  windows  had  evidently  been 
taken  from  some  wrecked  steamboat.  It  was 
overrun  with  roses  and  honeysuckles ;  while  with 
in  and  without  it  was  scrupulously  neat  and  clean. 

As  the  surveyor's  wagon  with  its  noisy  load 
drew  up  before  this  queer  establishment,  its  mis 
tress  appeared  at  the  door.  She  was  a  fat,  jolly- 
looking  negress,  wearing  a  gay  calico  dress,  and 
a  still  more  brilliant  turban,  and  she  was  imme 
diately  greeted  with  shouts  of  "How  are  you, 
Princess  f  "  Good-morning,  Princess !"  "  How's 
her  royal  nibs  to-day  ?"  etc.,  to  all  of  which  she 


7#  Oampmates. 

smiled  and  bowed,  and  courtesied  with  the  ut 
most  good-nature. 

The  moment  he  could  make  himself  heard, 
Mr.  Brackett  said,  "Princess,  we  have  here  a 
fainting  wayfarer.  Can  you  provide  him  with 
a  cup  of  nectar?" 

"  Yes,  sah." 

"  A  dish  of  peacock's  tongues  ?" 

"  Sartin,  sah." 

"  And  a  brace  of  nightingale's  eggs  on  toast  ?" 

"  In  about  free  minutes,  sah." 

"  Yery  well,  hasten  the  feast  and  speed  our 
departure ;  for  we  must  hence,  ere  many  nimble 
hours  be  flown." 

While  waiting  for  his  breakfast  to  be  prepared, 
Glen  had  a  chance  to  examine  his  new  compan 
ions  somewhat  more  closely  than  he  had  yet 
done.  There  were  eight  of  them,  besides  the 
driver  of  the  wagon,  mostly  young  men,  some 
of  them  hardly  more  than  boys ;  but  all  strong, 
healthy  looking,  and  brown  from  long  exposure 
to  sun  and  wind.  Their  dress  was  a  medley  of 
flannel,  buckskin,  and  relics  of  high  civilization. 
They  were  as  merry,  careless,  and  good-natured 
a  set  of  young  fellows  as  could  well  be  found, 
always  ready  for  hard  work  in  its  time,  and 
equally  so  for  a  frolic  when  the  chance  offered. 
They  all  seemed  to  be  on  a  perfect  equality, 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  73 

called  each  other  by  their  given  names,  and 
played  practical  jokes  upon  one  another  with 
impunity.  As  their  wagon  clattered  out  of  town 
in  the  morning,  or  dashed  in  again  at  dusk,  its 
occupants  generally  sang  the  most  rollicking  of 
college  or  camp  songs,  at  the  top  of  their  voices, 
and  everybody  had  a  kindly  word  or  an  indul 
gent  smile  for  the  young  surveyors. 

Foremost  in  all  their  fun  was  their  temporary 
chief,  whom  Glen  only  knew  as  Mr.  Brackett, 
but  who  was  called  "  Billy "  by  all  the  others. 
He  was  about  twenty-five  years  old,  and  his 
position  was  that  of  transit-man ;  though,  until 
Mr.  Hobart  should  join  the  party,  he  was  in 
charge  of  it.  To  Glen,  who  had  thus  far  only 
seen  him  off  duty,  it  was  incomprehensible  that 
so  frivolous  a  young  man  as  "  Billy  "  Brackett 
appeared  should  hold  so  responsible  a  position. 

The  party  had  recently  returned  from  the 
front,  where  they  had  been  locating  a  line  of 
new  road  since  earliest  spring.  Now,  while  wait 
ing  to  be  sent  out  again,  they  were  engaged  in 
running  in  the  side  tracks,  Y's,  and  switches  of 
what  has  since  become  one  of  the  greatest  rail 
road  yards  in  the  world.  It  was  on  the  state 
line,  between  Kansas  aud  Missouri,  about  an 
hour's  drive  from  the  Kaw  House,  where  the 
surveyors  made  their  headquarters. 


71*  Campmates. 

In  less  than  five  minutes  Glen  found  himself 
drinking  the  most  delicious  cup  of  coffee  he  had 
ever  tasted ;  while  into  his  hands  were  thrust  a 
couple  of  sandwiches  of  hot  corn-pones  and  crisp 
bacon.  These,  with  two  hard-boiled  eggs,  fur 
nished  a  most  acceptable  meal  to  the  hungry- 
boy.  Mr.  Brackett  tossed  a  quarter  to  the 
"  Princess,"  and  the  wagon  rolled  merrily  away 
with  Glen  eating  his  breakfast,  as  best  he  could, 
en  route. 


CHAPTER  X. 

AT  WORK  WITH   THE   ENGINEER  CORPS. 

THE  "  Princess "  was  a  character  of  those 
early  days,  and  was  celebrated  for  her  cafe  au 
laitj  which  "Billy"  Brackett  said  meant  "cof 
fee  and  eggs;"  but  which  was  really  the  best 
of  coffee  and  the  richest  of  goat's  milk.  Her 
husband  was  steward  on  one  of  the  steamboats 
that  plied  up  and  down  the  Missouri,  and  her 
exertions,  added  to  his,  enabled  them  to  accu 
mulate  a  small  property,  with  which  they  after 
wards  made  some  successful  investments  in  real 
estate.  The  boys  of  the  engineer  corps  were 
quick  to  discover  the  "  Princess  "  after  their  ar 
rival  in  the  place,  and  with  her  they  were  prime 
favorites. 

Glen  had  hardly  finished  his  breakfast  when 
the  party  reached  the  place  where  they  were  to 
begin  work.  Here  the  boy  obtained  his  first 
knowledge  of  the  names  and  uses  of  the  various 
objects  that  had  attracted  his  curiosity  as  they 
lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon. 

From  their  neat  wooden  boxes  were  taken 


76  Canipmates. 

two  highly  polished  brass  instruments,  each 
of  which  was  provided  with  a  telescope.  One 
of  these  was  a  transit,  for  laying  off  lines, 
angles,  and  curves  on  the  surface  of  the  earth ; 
and  the  other  was  a  level  for  measuring  the 
height  of  elevations  or  the  depth  of  depressions 
on  this  same  surface.  As  these  instruments 
were  lifted  carefully  from  their  boxes  they  were 
screwed  firmly  to  the  tops  of  wooden  tripods, 
that  supported  them  at  the  height  of  a  man's 
eyes. 

Then  came  the  long  rod,  divided  into  feet  and 
the  decimal  fractions  of  a  foot,  that  was  to  be  used 
with  the  level,  and  two  slender  flag-poles  painted 
red  and  white,  so  as  to  be  seen  at  long  distances. 
At  their  lower  ends  these  poles  were  tipped  with 
sharp  iron  points,  and  at  the  other  they  bore 
small  flags  of  red  flannel.  They  went  with  the 
transit,  and  were  to  designate  the  points  at 
which  the  sights  were  to  be  taken  through  its 
telescope. 

There  was  a  one -hundred -foot  steel  chain, 
having  links  each  one  foot  long,  with  which  to 
measure  distances.  "With  it  went  ten  slender 
steel  pins,  each  eighteen  inches  long,  to  the  tops 
of  which  bits  of  red  flannel  were  tied,  so  that 
they  could  be  readily  seen.  The  head  chain- 
man  carried  all  of  these  to  start  with,  and  stuck 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  77 

one  into  the  ground  at  the  end  of  each  hundred 
feet.  The  rear  chainman  gathered  them  up  as 
he  came  to  them,  and  thus,  by  counting  the 
number  of  pins  in  his  hand,  he  always  knew  just 
what  distance  had  been  measured. 

The  man  having  charge  of  or  "running"  the 
transit  was  called  the  transit-man ;  the  one  run 
ning  the  level  was  called  the  leveller ;  while  the 
other  members  of  the  party  were  designated  as 
rodman,  front  and  back  flagmen,  or  "flags," 
chainmen,  and  axemen.  There  were  generally 
two  of  these  last  named,  and  their  duty  was  to 
clear  away  timber,  brush,  or  other  obstructions 
on  the  line,  and  to  make  and  drive  stakes  wher 
ever  they  were  needed. 

As  the  several  members  of  the  party  were  pre 
paring  for  their  respective  duties,  Mr.  Brackett 
put  Glen  through  a  sort  of  an  examination,  to 
discover  for  what  particular  task  he  was  best 
fitted. 

"  I  don't  suppose,  Matherson,"  he  began,  "  that 
you  care  to  run  the  transit  to-day  ?" 

"No,"  laughed  Glen,  "I  think  not  to-day." 

"Nor  the  level?" 

"  No,  sir.     I'd  rather  not  try  it." 

"Well,  I  guess  you'd  better  not.  You  might 
get  it  out  of  adjustment.  Can  you  read  a  rod  ?" 

No,  Glen  could  not  read  a  rod. 


78  Campmates. 

He  proved  equally  ignorant  of  the  duties  of 
flagman,  chainman,  and  axeman,  which  Mr. 
Brackett  said  was  very  fortunate,  as  all  these 
positions  were  already  so  capably  filled  in  his 
party  that  he  should  really  hate  to  discharge 
anybody  to  make  room  for  the  new  arrival. 
"But,"  he  added,  "I  have  a  most  important 
place  left,  that  I  believe  you  will  fill  capitally. 
Can  you  reproduce  the  letters  of  the  alphabet 
and  the  Arabic  numerals  on  a  bit  of  white  pine 
with  a  piece  of  red  chalk  ?" 

Somewhat  bewildered  by  this  banter,  Glen 
answered  rather  doubtfully  that  he  believed  he 
could. 

"  Good !  Then  you  shall  stay  with  the  wagon 
to-day,  and  mark  stakes  with  this  bit  of  '  kiel '  " 
(red  chalk). 

So  Glen's  first  day's  duty  as  a  civil-engineer 
was  to  mark  stakes  with  figures  to  denote  the 
distance  measured,  or  with  various  letters,  such 
as  P.  T.  (point  of  tangent),  P.  C.  (point  of  curve), 
etc.,  for  the  transit  party,  and  B.  M.  (bench 
mark),  C.  (cut),  F.  (fill),  G.  (grade),  etc.,  for  the 
levellers. 

Mr.  Brackett  explained  the  meaning  of  these 
signs  patiently  and  clearly  to  the  boy,  whose 
quick  wit  enabled  him  readily  to  comprehend 
all  that  was  told  him.  By  noon  he  was  fur- 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  79 

nishing  stakes,  properly  marked,  for  the  various 
purposes  required,  as  well  as  though  he  had  been 
engaged  in  this  business  for  a  month.  It  was 
not  a  very  important  position,  to  be  sure ;  but  he 
filled  it  to  the  very  best  of  his  ability,  which  is 
the  most  that  can  be  expected  of  any  boy. 

One  of  the  things  by  which  the  new  member 
was  most  strongly  impressed,  during  this  first 
day's  experience,  was  the  great  difference  be 
tween  Mr.  Brackett  on  duty  and  the  same  gen 
tleman  during  his  hours  of  relaxation.  While 
at  work  he  was  grave  and  dignified,  nor  did  he 
tolerate  any  familiarity  from  those  who  obeyed 
his  orders.  And  they  did  obey  them  promptly, 
without  question  or  hesitation.  He  was  no 
longer  "  Billy ;"  but  was  carefully  addressed  as 
"  Mr.  Brackett "  by  every  member  of  the  party. 
It  was  evident  that  he  not  only  thoroughly  un 
derstood  his  business,  but  as  thoroughly  under 
stood  the  temper  of  his  men.  It  was  clear,  also, 
that  they  were  well  aware  that  he  was  not  a 
man  to  allow  his  authority  to  be  questioned  or 
trifled  with.  With  this  mutual  understanding 
the  work  progressed  smoothly  and  satisfactorily. 

All  this  was  a  study  in  character  of  which 
Glen  was  wise  enough  to  learn  the  lesson ;  and 
perhaps  it  was  the  most  valuable  one  of  that 
day's  schooling.  The  discipline  of  a  well-drilled 


80  Campmates. 

engineer  corps  is  very  similar  to  that  maintained 
on  board  ship ;  and,  while  at  certain  seasons  it 
may  be  greatly  relaxed,  it  can,  and  must,  be  re 
sumed  at  a  moment's  notice,  if  the  authority 
necessary  to  produce  the  best  results  is  to  be  re 
spected. 

The  same  merry,  rollicking  party  rode  back 
into  Kansas  City  that  evening  that  had  left  it  in 
the  morning ;  and,  though  Glen  was  very  tired, 
he  had  become  well  enough  acquainted  with 
them  to  enter  heartily  into  the  spirit  of  the  fun. 
Thus,  whenever  they  sang  a  song  he  knew,  his 
voice  was  heard  among  the  loudest. 

At  the  hotel  they  learned  for  the  first  time  of 
the  attempt  to  rob  the  train  Glen  had  come  on, 
and  wondered  that  he  had  said  nothing  of  the 
affair.  When  they  questioned  him,  he  did  not 
know  how  to  talk  of  it  without  proclaiming  his 
share  in  the  night's  work,  and  so  only  said  that, 
as  he  was  asleep  when  the  fight  took  place,  he 
had  seen  nothing  of  it. 

Long  after  Glen  had  gone  to  bed  that  night, 
Mr.  Brackett,  the  leveller,  and  the  rodman  sat 
up  hard  at  work  on  the  maps  and  profiles  of  the 
lines  they  had  run  that  day.  If  Glen  had  seen 
this  he  would  have  realized  what  he  afterwards 
learned,  that  while  the  work  of  most  men  ends 
with  the  day,  that  of  an  engineer  in  the  field 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  81 

only  ends  with  bedtime,  and  sometimes  a  late 
one  at  that. 

For  two  days  longer  Glen  worked  with  this 
congenial  party,  gaining  valuable  knowledge 
with  each  hour,  and  thoroughly  enjoying  his 
new  life. 

On  the  third  day  Mr.  Hobart  came,  and  it 
seemed  to  Glen  like  seeing  one  from  home  to 
meet  him  again.  After  their  first  greeting,  the 
engineer  said, 

"  "Well,  my  boy,  what  other  wonderful  deeds 
have  you  been  performing  since  you  and  the 
governor  ran  the  locomotive  ?" 

"  The  governor !"  almost  gasped  Glen.  "  Was 
he  a  governor  ?" 

"  Certainly  he  was,  or  rather  had  been. 
Didn't  you  know  it  ?  He  was  General  Elting, 
the  ex-governor  whom  you  were  inquiring  about 
in  St.  Louis,  and  who  is  now  the  treasurer  of 
our  road.  He  returned  to  St.  Louis  almost  im 
mediately  from  here,  and  there  I  heard  the 
whole  story  from  his  own  lips.  He  was  greatly 
disappointed  at  your  disappearance,  and  much 
pleased  to  find  out  that  I  knew  you;  for  of 
course  I  recognized  you  from  his  description. 
He  hopes  to  meet  you  again  some  time,  and  I 
have  promised  to  see  that  you  do  not  indulge  in 
any  more  mysterious  disappearances." 


&%  Campmates. 

While  they  talked  of  that  night,  and  its  tragic 
incidents,  Mr.  Hobart  suddenly  interrupted  him 
self  with, 

"  By  the  way,  Glen,  I  am  not  going  to  take 
charge  of  this  locating-party,  after  all,  and  so 
cannot  give  you  a  position  in  it." 

Glen  felt  his  face  growing  pale  as  he  repeated 
slowly  and  incredulously, 

"  Not  going  to  take  charge  of  it  ?" 

"  No ;  I  have  been  relieved  of  my  command, 
and  am  going  to  engage  in  another  kind  of 
work,"  replied  the  engineer,  smiling  at  the  boy's 
startled  and  distressed  expression. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ALMOST  TOO  GOOD  TO  BE  TRUE. 

IF  Glen  had  detected  that  smile  on  Mr.  Ho 
bart's  face,  he  would  have  been  spared  a  few 
moments  of  very  unhappy  reflections.  He  would 
have  known  that  his  brown-bearded  friend  could 
not  smile  while  dashing  his  high  hopes,  and  that 
there  must  be  something  pleasant  back  of  it  all. 
But  as  the  engineer,  who  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  try  the  effects  of  a  disappointment 
on  the  boy's  temper,  turned  away  his  face  at  that 
moment,  his  words  were  heard,  while  the  smile 
was  not  noticed. 

Like  a  great  surging  wave,  the  thought  of  an 
ignominious  return  to  Brimfield,  and  a  picture 
of  the  mill  and  the  store  as  he  had  last  seen 
them,  swept  over  the  boy's  mind.  Then  came 
the  more  recent  picture  of  the  happy  out-of-door 
life  he  had  been  leading  for  the  past  three  days. 
How  could  he  give  up  the  one  and  go  back  to 
the  other?  Of  course,  if  Mr.  Hobart  said  he 
could  no  longer  have  work  with  the  surveying- 
party,  it  must  be  so.  There  could  be  no  appeal 


84  Campmates. 

from  that  decision.  And  he  had  tried  so  hard 
to  do  well  whatever  had  been  given  him  to  do, 
and  to  make  himself  useful!  It  was  too  bad! 
But  surely  there  must  be  other  work  in  this  big, 
bustling,  wide-awake  West,  even  for  a  boy.  "With 
this  thought  his  clouded  face  cleared,  and  a  look 
of  settled  resolve  overspread  it. 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry,  sir,"  he  said ;  but  the  tone 
was  almost  cheerful,  and  Mr.  Hobart's  face  was 
now  the  one  that  expressed  surprise.  If  he  had 
been  able  to  examine  Glen's  mind,  he  would  have 
seen  that  the  boy  had  simply  decided  not  to  go 
back,  at  least  not  until  the  summer  was  over,  but 
to  stay  where  he  was,  and  attempt  to  solve  the 
bread-and-butter  problem  alone. 

"My  new  orders  came  very  unexpectedly," 
continued  the  engineer,  "and  have  completely 
upset  my  plans.  It  seems  that  the  company  has 
decided  to  send  me  through  to  the  Pacific  with 
General  Lyle's  exploring  expedition." 

A  lump  rose  in  Glen's  throat.  General  Lyle's 
expedition!  Why,  that  was  the  one  Binney 
Gibbs  was  to  accompany.  Was  all  the  world 
going  on  that  wonderful  trip  except  himself  ?  It 
almost  seemed  so.  "  It  will  be  a  fine  trip,  sir," 
he  said,  trying  to  choke  down  the  lump. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  it  will ;  but  it  will  also  be  a 
hard  and  dangerous  one,  such  as  a  great  many 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  85 

people  would  not  care  to  undertake.  I  don't 
suppose  you  would,  for  instance?"  and  Mr.  Ho- 
bart  looked  quizzically  at  the  boy. 

"  Wouldn't  I !  I'd  just  like  to  have  somebody 
offer  me  a  chance  to  go  on  that  expedition,  that's 
all !" 

"  Very  well,"  replied  the  engineer,  quietly, "  I'll 
offer  you  the  chance,  just  to  see  whether  you  will 
accept  it  or  not.  Will  you  go  with  me  on  this 
long  trip ?" 

For  a  few  seconds  Glen  gazed  into  the  brown- 
bearded  face  without  answering.  Was  he  awake 
or  dreaming  ?  Had  the  words  been  spoken  ?  Do 
you  really  mean  it,  sir?"  he  almost  gasped,  at 
length,  "  or  are  you  only  making  fun  of  me !" 

"  Mean  it  ?  of  course  I  do,"  was  the  reply.  I 
generally  mean  what  I  say,  and  if  you  really 
care  to  explore  Kansas  and  Colorado,  New  Mex 
ico,  Arizona,  and  Southern  California  in  my  com 
pany,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  have  you  do  so. 
I  am  also  authorized  to  offer  you  a  position,  a 
humble  one,  to  be  sure,  but  one  that  will  pay  the 
same  salary  that  you  would  have  received  as  a 
member  of  the  locating-party,  in  the  division  I 
am  to  command.  I  don't  suppose  there  will  be 
many  chances  for  you  to  run  locomotives  out 
there ;  but  I  have  no  doubt  there  will  be  plenty 
of  swimming  to  be  done,  as  well  as  other  things 


86  Campmates. 

in  the  line  of  your  peculiar  abilities.  But  you 
have  not  answered  my  question  yet.  Will  you 
accept  my  offer,  or  do  you  wish  a  few  days  in 
which  to  consider  it  ?" 

uOh,  Mr.  Hobart!"  cried  the  boy,  who  was 
standing  up  in  his  excitement.  "  It  seems  almost 
too  good  to  be  true!  I  can't  realize  that  this 
splendid  chance,  that  I've  been  trying  so  hard 
not  to  think  about,  has  really  come  to  me.  Why, 
I'd  rather  go  on  that  trip  than  do  anything  else 
in  the  whole  world,  and  if  you'll  only  take  me 
along,  in  any  position,  I  don't  care  what,  I'll  be 
grateful  to  you  all  my  life." 

"  But  what  do  you  think  your  father  will  say  ? 
Do  you  suppose  he  will  let  you  go?"  inquired 
the  engineer,  soberly. 

Glen's  face  became  grave  again  in  an  instant. 
"  Oh,  yes,  he's  sure  to,"  he  replied, "  but  I'll  write 
this  very  minute,  and  ask  him. 

"  There  won't  be  time  to  receive  an  answer," 
said  Mr.  Hobart,  "for  we  must  start  from  here 
to-morrow ;  but  perhaps  this  letter  will  make 
things  all  right.  You  see,"  he  added,  "  I  thought 
it  was  just  possible  that  you  might  care  to  ac 
cept  my  offer,  and  so  I  took  the  liberty  of  writing 
and  asking  your  father  if  he  were  willing  to  have 
you  do  so.  I  also  asked  him  not  to  say  anything 
about  it  in  Brimfield  until  after  we  had  started, 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  87 

for  fear  I  should  be  flooded  with  applications 
from  other  boys,  who  might  imagine  I  had  the 
power  to  give  them  positions.  Your  father's 
answer  reached  me  here  an  hour  ago,  and  with  it 
came  this  letter  for  you." 

No  own  father  could  have  written  a  kinder  or 
more  satisfactory  letter  to  a  boy  than  the  one 
Mr.  Matherson  sent  to  his  adopted  son.  It  read 
ily  granted  the  required  permission,  and  congrat 
ulated  Glen  upon  the  splendid  opportunity  thus 
opened  to  him.  At  the  same  time  it  told  him 
how  they  already  missed  him,  and  how  they  hated 
the  thought  of  not  seeing  him  for  a  whole  year. 
It  closed  with  the  information  that  Binney  Gibbs 
was  making  extensive  preparations  for  his  de 
parture  to  the  far  West,  and  that  the  famous  ex 
pedition,  of  which  he  was  to  be  a  member,  was 
the  all-absorbing  topic  of  conversation  in  Brim- 
field. 

Mr.  Hobart  watched  the  boy's  glowing  face  as 
he  read  this  letter  with  genuine  pleasure ;  for  he 
had  taken  a  real  liking  to  him,  and  was  not  only 
glad  of  this  opportunity  for  affording  him  such 
unalloyed  happiness,  but  also  that  they  were  to 
be  companions  on  the  proposed  trip. 

Matters  being  thus  happily  settled,  the  engi 
neer  told  Glen  that  they  would  start  the  follow 
ing  evening  for  the  end  of  the  track,  nearly  two 


88  Campmates. 

hundred  miles  west  of  that  point,  where  the  ex 
pedition  was  to  rendezvous,  and  where  he  was 
to  establish  a  camp  for  their  reception. 

The  information  that  interested  and  pleased 
Glen  the  most,  though,  was  that  Mr.  Brackett 
was  to  be  assistant  engineer  of  the  new  division, 
and  that  most  of  the  members  of  the  party  with 
whom  the  boy  was  already  on  such  friendly 
terms,  were  also  to  join  it. 

Being  dismissed  by  Mr.  Hobart,  with  orders  to 
be  on  hand  bright  and  early  in  the  morning,  for 
the  morrow  would  be  a  busy  day,  the  happy  lad 
rushed  away  to  find  those  who  were  to  be  his 
fellow-explorers,  and  talk  over  with  them  the 
wonders  and  delights  of  the  proposed  trip.  To 
his  surprise  not  one  of  them  was  anywhere  about 
the  hotel,  and  he  was  told  that  the  entire  party 
had  gone  down  town  a  few  moments  before.  Too 
excited  to  do  anything  else,  Glen  immediately 
set  out  to  find  them.  For  some  time  he  searched 
in  vain ;  but  at  length,  attracted  by  the  sound  of 
great  shouting  and  laughter,  he  joined  a  throng 
of  people  who  were  gathered  about  one  of  the 
few  barber  shops  of  the  city,  and  seemed  to  be 
vastly  entertained  by  something  taking  place 
inside. 

Recognizing  "Billy"  Brackett's  voice  above 
all  the  other  sounds  that  came  from  the  shop, 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  89 

Glen  pushed  himself  forward  until  he  finally 
gained  a  position  inside  the  door.  All  the  engi 
neers  were  there.  Three  of  them  occupied  the 
three  chairs  that  the  shop  boasted,  and  were  hav 
ing  their  hair  cut.  Another,  standing  on  a  table, 
so  that  he  could  overlook  the  crowd,  was  super 
intending  the  operation.  But  for  his  voice  and 
his  unmistakable  costume,  Glen  would  never  have 
recognized  in  him  the  dignified  young  engineer 
under  whom  he  had  been  at  work  but  an  hour 
before.  Every  spear  of  hair  had  disappeared 
from  his  head,  and  he  was  as  bald  as  a  billiard 
cue.  Seated  on  the  table,  contentedly  swinging 
their  legs,  were  two  other  bald-headed  figures, 
whom  Glen  with  difficulty  recognized  as  the  lev 
eller  and  rodman. 

When  the  three  victims  in  the  chairs  had  been 
reduced  to  a  similar  state  of  baldness,  their  places 
were  instantly  occupied  by  the  remaining  mem 
bers  of  the  party.  The  whole  performance  was 
conducted  amid  the  most  uproarious  fun,  of  which 
the  recently  promoted  assistant  engineer  was  the 
ruling  spirit. 

As  the  chairs  became  empty  for  the  third  time, 
and  the  nine  bald-headed  members  prepared  to 
depart,  each  declaring  that  the  others  were  the 
most  comical-looking  objects  he  had  ever  seen, 
they  suddenly  caught  sight  of  Glen,  and  a  rush 


90  Campmates. 

was  made  for  him.  In  another  moment,  despite 
his  struggles,  he  too  was  seated  in  a  barber's 
chair,  and  was  rapidly  growing  as  bald  as  his 
f  ello  w-explorers. 

"  You'll  look  worse  than  a  boiled  owl,  Glen," 
remarked  "  Billy  "  Brackett,  encouragingly. 

"And  be  a  living  terror  to  Injuns,"  cried  an 
other. 

"  It'll  be  the  greatest  comfort  in  the  world,  old 
man,  to  feel  that  though  you  may  be  killed,  you 
can't  be  scalped,"  shouted  a  third. 

Eealizing  that  resistance  was  useless,  Glen  sub 
mitted  to  the  shearing  process  with  as  good  a 
grace  as  possible.  A  few  minutes  later,  wearing 
a  very  loose-fitting  hat,  he  was  marching  up  the 
street  with  his  jovial  comrades,  joining  with  the 
full  strength  of  his  lungs  in  the  popular  chorus  of 

"The  bald-headed  man,  who's  been  always  in  the  van 
Of  everything  that's  going,  since  the  world  first  began." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

STARTING   ACROSS  THE   PLAINS. 

TRANSFORMING  themselves  into  a  party  of  bald- 
heads  was  the  last  of  the  absurd  pranks  with 
which  the  young  engineers  entertained  the  good 
people  of  Kansas  City  for  many  a  long  day.  At 
the  same  hour  on  the  following  evening  they 
were  well  on  their  way  towards  the  far  West 
in  a  dilapidated  passenger -coach  attached  to  a 
freight  train  loaded  with  tents  and  supplies  of 
every  description  for  their  long  trip. 

By  the  next  noon,  after  a  hard,  rough  ride  of 
nearly  two  hundred  miles,  the  end  of  the  track 
was  reached.  It  was  on  a  treeless  prairie,  sweep 
ing  away  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see  on  all  sides. 
Here  was  spread  a  thick  green  carpet  of  short 
buffalo  grass,  and  into  this  carpet  were  woven 
exquisite  patterns  of  innumerable  flowers.  The 
place  was  at  the  junction  of  the  Kaw  River  with 
one  of  its  numerous  branches,  and  where  but  a 
few  weeks  before  wild  Indians  had  camped  and 
vast  herds  of  buffalo  had  pastured,  a  railroad 
town  of  several  hundred  rough  frame  houses, 


92  Campmates. 

shanties,  and  tents  had  already  sprung  into  ex 
istence. 

Here  the  overland  stages  took  their  departure 
for  the  distant  mining  town  of  Denver,  and  here 
the  long  trains  of  great  freight-wagons  were  load 
ed  for  their  toilsome  journey  over  the  Sante  Fe 
trail  to  the  far-away  valley  of  the  Rio  Grande. 
Here,  on  side-tracks,  were  the  construction-cars, 
movable  houses  on  wheels,  in  which  lived  the 
graders,  track-layers,  and  other  members  of  the 
army  of  workmen  employed  in  the  building  of  a 
railroad.  Kailroad  men,  soldiers,  teamsters,  trad 
ers,  Indians,  and  Mexicans,  horses,  mules,  and  oxen 
mingled  here  in  picturesque  confusion.  Nearly 
every  man  carried  a  rifle,  and  it  was  rare  to  meet 
one  who  did  not  wear  one  or  more  revolvers 
strapped  to  his  waist. 

It  was  by  far  the  most  novel  and  bustling  scene 
Glen  had  ever  looked  upon ;  and,  as  he  stepped 
from  the  last  railroad-car  he  was  to  see  for  many 
months,  and  stretched  his  cramped  limbs,  he  gazed 
about  him  in  astonishment.  But  there  was  no  time 
for  idling,  and  Glen  had  hardly  given  a  glance  at 
his  unfamiliar  surroundings  before  Mr.  Hobart's 
voice,  saying,  "  Come,  boys,  there's  plenty  to  do, 
and  but  a  few  hours  to  do  it  in,"  set  the  whole 
party  to  work  in  the  liveliest  possible  manner. 

There  was  a  fine  grassy  level  about  a  hundred 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  93 

yards  from  the  railroad,  on  the  opposite  side  from 
the  settlement.  It  was  skirted  by  a  clear  but 
sluggish  stream,  fringed  by  a  slender  growth  of 
cotton  wood-trees,  and  was  so  evidently  the  very 
place  for  a  camp  that  Mr.  Hobart  selected  it  at 
once.  Here  the  young  engineers  worked  like  bea 
vers  all  through  that  long,  hot  afternoon,  and  by 
nightfall  they  had  pitched  twenty  wall-tents,  ar 
ranged  in  the  form  of  an  open  square.  One  of 
these  was  reserved  for  Mr.  Hobart,  while  Mr. 
Brackett  and  the  leveller  were  given  another, 
and  two  more  were  allowed  to  the  other  mem 
bers  of  the  party.  Into  these  they  had  removed 
all  their  personal  belongings,  while  in  two  other 
tents,  carefully  ditched  and  banked  to  keep  out 
the  water  in  case  of  rain,  were  stored  all  the  in 
struments,  implements,  blank-books,  and  station 
ery  provided  for  the  expedition. 

Heartily  tired  after  this  novel  but  interesting 
labor,  how  Glen  did  enjoy  his  tin-cup  of  black 
coffee  without  milk,  the  fried  bacon  and  hard 
tack,  that  constituted  his  supper,  when,  at  sun 
down,  one  of  the  axemen,  who  had  been  at  work 
for  an  hour  over  a  fire,  announced  that  it  was 
ready !  He  would  have  scorned  such  fare  at 
home ;  but,  with  his  present  appetite,  and  under 
the  circumstances,  it  seemed  as  though  nothing 
had  ever  tasted  better. 


94  Campmates. 

As  the  darkness  came  on,  how  cheerful  the 
tent,  that  had  now  become  his  home,  looked  in 
the  light  of  a  lantern  hung  from  its  ridge-pole! 
What  a  pleasant  hour  he  passed  listening  to  the 
stories  and  experiences  of  his  three  tentmates, 
as  they  lay  luxuriously  outstretched  on  their 
blankets,  enjoying  their  well-earned  rest !  The 
entire  stock  of  blankets  was  used  to  make  one 
wide,  comfortable  bed  for  the  four.  All  the  rub 
bers  were,  of  course,  placed  underneath,  next  the 
ground,  and  Glen  was  greatly  pleased  at  the  praise 
bestowed  upon  his  rubber-sheet,  which  was  twice 
as  large  as  an  ordinary  blanket,  and  which  he 
had  followed  Mr.  Hobart's  advice  in  procuring. 

After  the  others  had  finished  their  evening 
pipes  and  dropped  off  to  sleep,  and  after  the 
light  had  been  put  out,  the  novelty  of  this  first 
night  under  canvas  kept  Glen  awake  for  some 
time.  What  a  fortunate  fellow  he  felt  himself 
to  be,  as  he  lay  there  recalling  the  events  of  the 
last  ten  days,  and  trying  to  picture  the  imme 
diate  future !  To  think  that  he,  the  worst  scholar 
in  his  class,  a  boy  without  an  own  father  or  moth 
er,  so  far  as  he  knew,  nor  even  a  birthday  that 
he  was  sure  of,  should  be  away  out  here  on  the 
Plains,  and  about  to  start  on  an  expedition  that 
every  boy  in  the  country  would  be  thankful  to 
join  if  he  could.  It  was  simply  wonderful ;  and 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  95 

he  resolved  that,  if  hard  work  and  the  prompt 
est  possible  attention  to  duty  could  render  him 
worthy  of  such  good-fortune,  neither  of  these 
things  should  be  lacking. 

By  daylight  the  camp  was  astir ;  but  Glen  was 
the  first  to  roll  out  of  his  blankets,  and  he  had 
been  down  to  the  creek  for  a  plunge  in  its  cool 
waters  before  breakfast -time.  Then  followed 
another  hard  day's  work.  The  train  of  twenty 
heavy  canvas-topped  army-wagons,  each  drawn 
by  six  mules,  the  three  four-mule  ambulances, 
and  the  drove  of  spare  animals  furnished  to  the 
expedition  by  the  government,  arrived  during  the 
morning.  These  wagons  had  to  be  loaded  with 
the  vast  quantity  of  provisions  and  various  sup 
plies  brought  thus  far  by  rail.  Then  the  tents 
already  up  had  to  be  ditched,  and  still  others 
erected  for  the  use  of  the  engineer-in-chief  and 
other  officers  of  the  party  who  were  now  hourly 
expected  to  arrive. 

A  flag-pole  was  planted  in  front  of  the  head 
quarter  tents,  and  that  evening,  when  a  train 
came  in  bringing  General  Lyle  and  about  half 
the  members  of  the  expedition,  an  American  flag 
was  run  to  its  top.  Both  it  and  the  general  were 
greeted  with  a  volley  of  rifle-shots  and  a  hearty 
cheer,  while  at  the  same  time  the  encampment 
was  christened  "  Camp  Lyle." 


96  Campmates. 

Glen's  youthful  appearance  attracted  the  chiefs 
attention  as  soon  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  lad, 
and  he  was  inclined  to  doubt  the  advisability  of 
allowing  such  a  mere  boy  to  accompany  the  ex- 
pedition.  A  few  words  from  Mr.  Hobart  satis 
fied  him,  however,  that  Glen  would  prove  a  credit 
to  the  party,  and  after  that  the  general  watched 
the  boy  with  interest. 

With  the  chief -engineer  came  a  geologist,  bot 
anist,  surgeon,  photographer,  private  secretary, 
quartermaster,  the  two  other  division  command 
ers,  and,  what  was  of  more  immediate  interest  to 
all  the  young  engineers,  several  good  camp-cooks. 
Thus,  on  the  second  night  of  its  existence,  with 
this  large  increase  in  the  number  of  its  occupants, 
Camp  Lyle  presented  a  most  cheerful  and  ani 
mated  appearance. 

Early  the  following  morning  another  train  ar 
rived  from  the  East,  bringing  the  remaining 
members  of  the  expedition.  A  few  minutes  af 
ter  its  arrival  Glen  was  awakened  by  hearing  a 
voice  that  sounded  very  familiar,  calling, 

" Hello!  I  say!  Some  of  you  fellows  come 
out  here  and  help  me '!' 

As  he  sat  up  in  his  blankets,  wondering  who 
could  be  speaking  with  such  a  tone  of  author 
ity,  and  whether  he  ought  to  answer  the  sum 
mons  or  not,  a  head  was  thrust  into  the  tent- 
door,  and  the  demand  was  repeated. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  97 

It  was  Binney  Gibbs,  who  had  passed  as  com 
pletely  out  of  Glen's  mind  as  though  he  had  nev 
er  existed.  He  did  not  recognize  Glen's  bald 
head ;  but,  when  the  latter  stepped  from  the  tent 
with  his  hat  on,  saying,  "  Hello,  Binney,  old  man, 
what  can  I  do  for  you  ?"  the  prize  scholar  of  the 
Brimfield  High  School  stood  for  a  moment  speech 
less  with  amazement. 

"You  here?"  he  finally  stammered.  "What 
on  earth  does  it  mean?" 

"  It  means,"  replied  Glen,  laughing  at  the  oth 
er's  incredulous  expression,  "  that  Brimfield  is  to 
have  two  representatives  on  this  expedition  in 
stead  of  one,  and  that  I  am  going  through  to  the 
Pacific  with  you." 

Binney  had  always  been  jealous  of  Glen,  but 
at  that  moment  he  felt  that  he  almost  hated  him. 

In  spite  of  this,  he  allowed  his  former  school 
mate  and  another  stout  fellow  to  bring  his  heavy 
trunk  from  the  railroad  into  camp.  When  the 
quartermaster  saw  it  he  said  that,  as  there  would 
be  no  room  for  trunks  in  the  wagons,  the  owner 
of  this  one  must  take  from  it  what  would  fill  a 
moderate-sized  valise,  and  either  dispose  of  the 
trunk  with  the  rest  of  its  contents  or  send  them 
back  home.  To  this  Binney  angrily  replied  that 
he  would  see  General  Lyle  about  it. 

The  new  arrival  gave  further  offence  that  morn- 


98  Campmates. 

ing  by  turning  up  his  nose  at  the  breakfast  pre 
pared  by  one  of  the  camp-cooks,  and  declaring  it 
unfit  for  white  men  to  eat.  He  also  refused, 
point-blank,  to  help  unload  a  car  when  requested 
to  do  so  by  one  of  the  division  engineers,  saying 
that  it  was  not  the  kind  of  work  he  had  been  en 
gaged  to  perform. 

He  was  only  brought  to  a  realizing  sense  of  his 
position  by  a  severe  reprimand  from  General 
Lyle  himself,  who  declared  that,  upon  the  next 
complaint  brought  to  him  of  the  boy's  conduct, 
he  should  discharge  him.  He  also  said  that  only 
the  fact  of  Binney's  having  been  sent  there  by 
his  old  friend  Mr.  Meadows  prevented  him  from 
doing  so  at  once.  The  chief  closed  his  remarks 
by  advising  Binney  to  take  the  other  Brimfield 
boy  of  the  party  as  an  example  worthy  of  copy 
ing.  Thereupon  all  the  prize  scholar's  bitterness 
of  feeling  was  directed  against  unsuspecting  Glen, 
and  he  vowed  he  would  get  even  with  that  young 
nobody  yet. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

BINNEY   GIBBS   AND   HIS  MULE. 

THE  effect  on  Binney  Gibbs  of  General  lyle's 
reprimand  was  good,  inasmuch  as  it  brought  him 
to  a  realizing  sense  of  his  true  position  in  that 
party,  and  showed  him  that,  if  he  wished  to  re 
main  a  member  of  it,  he  must  obey  orders,  even 
when  they  were  issued  in  the  form  of  polite 
requests.  So,  after  that,  he  made  a  virtue  of 
necessity,  and  obeyed  every  order  with  a  scru 
pulous  exactness,  though  generally  with  an  in 
jured  air,  and  a  protesting  expression  of  counte 
nance  as  though  he  were  being  imposed  upon. 
It  was  a  great  mortification  to  him  to  be  obliged 
to  send  home  his  trunk,  and  more  than  half  his 
supply  of  clothing,  together  with  a  number  of 
other  cherished  luxuries,  such  as  a  rubber  bath 
tub,  a  cork  mattress,  a  rubber  pillow,  half  a  dozen 
linen  sheets,  several  china  plates,  cups,  and  sau 
cers,  besides  some  silver  and  plated  ware,  all  of 
which  he  relinquished  with  a  heavy  heart  and 
many  lamentations. 

The  only  thing  in  the  shape  of  a  valise,  with 


100  Campmates. 

which  to  replace  his  trunk,  that  he  could  pur 
chase  in  the  railroad  settlement,  was  one  of  those 
cheap  affairs  made  of  glazed  leather,  such  as  are 
often  seen  in  the  hands  of  newly  landed  immi 
grants.  As  Binney  brought  this  into  the  camp, 
it  at  once  attracted  universal  attention.  The 
boys  crowded  about  him,  begging  to  be  allowed 
to  examine  his  new  and  elegant  "  grip-sack ;" 
and,  from  that  day  forth,  he  was  known  as 
"  Grip"  by  the  entire  party. 

For  a  week  longer  the  expedition  remained  at 
Camp  Lyle,  waiting  for  settled  weather,  and  pre 
paring  for  its  great  undertaking.  It  was  divi 
ded  into  four  divisions,  three  of  which  were  reg 
ularly  equipped  surveying-parties  who  were  to 
run  transit  and  level  lines  from  a  point  near  the 
Colorado  border  to  the  Pacific  Ocean.  The 
fourth,  or  headquarter  division,  was  composed 
of  the  commander  and  his  immediate  staff,  to 
gether  with  the  scientific  men  and  their  assist 
ants. 

As  Glen  hoped  and  expected,  he  was  assigned 
to  the  second  division,  of  which  Mr.  Hobart  was 
engineer  in  charge,  and  Mr.  Brackett  was  assist 
ant.  He  was  a  little  disappointed  that  the  only 
position  found  for  him  in  the  division  was  the 
very  lowest  of  all  in  rank  and  pay.  It  was  that 
of  tapeman,  and  his  duties  were  to  assist  the 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  101' 


topographer  of  the  party  in  measuring*  di 
to,  or  taking  the  bearings  of,  prominent  objects 
along  the  line.  Neither  could  Glen  help  wish 
ing  that  Binney  Gibbs  had  not  been  assigned 
to  the  same  division  as  himself.  On  account  of 
his  brilliant  record  for  scholarship  and  skill  with 
figures,  Binney  was  made  rodman,  a  position 
that  far  outranked  Glen's  and  commanded  twice 
his  pay.  Still,  Glen  strove  hard  not  to  feel  en 
vious  of  this  other  Brimfield  boy.  He  was  alto 
gether  too  proud  of  being  a  member  of  the  ex 
pedition  on  any  terms  to  have  room  for  any 
other  feeling,  and  he  was  anxious  to  be  on  a 
friendly  footing  with  Binney,  as  he  was  with 
everybody  else.  So,  when  the  positions  were 
announced,  and  the  prize  scholar  was  found  to 
hold  such  a  fine  one,  Glen  was  the  first  to  tender 
his  congratulations. 

Binney  received  them  coldly,  merely  remark 
ing  that  they  could  not  very  well  have  given  him 
any  lower  position,  and  that  he  should  not  have 
accepted  anything  less  if  it  had  been  offered. 

Glen  only  smiled  at  this,  and  thought  how 
fortunate  it  was  that  he  did  not  feel  that  way. 

As  a  rodman  Binney  was  allowed  the  use  of 
a  saddle-animal,  and  a  very  small  mule  was  as 
signed  to  him  as  his  mount.  When  he  went  down 
to  the  wagons  to  inspect  his  new  acquisition,  he 


Campmates. 

tlibught  ho  *had  never  seen  a  more  dangerous- 
looking  animal.  It  laid  back  its  ears  and  bit  at 
him  when  he  attempted  to  pat  it  on  the  nose, 
and  manifested  every  other  sign  of  mulish  an 
tipathy  towards  its  new  master.  In  spite  of  all 
this,  the  teamster  having  it  in  charge  assured 
Binney  that  it  was  a  perfect  lamb,  and  the  rod- 
man,  anxious  to  prove  his  ability  to  ride  a  mule, 
which  some  of  the  boys  had  doubted,  ordered 
the  animal  to  be  saddled. 

The  man  who  held  the  beast  while  Binney 
climbed  awkwardly  into  the  saddle  winked  at  some 
of  his  fellows  who  were  watching  the  operation, 
and  thrust  his  tongue  derisively  into  his  cheek. 

For  a  few  moments  the  mule  did  prove  a  ver 
itable  lamb,  ambling  along  so  gently  that  Bin- 
ney's  spirits  rose,  and  he  began  to  imagine  him 
self  the  rider  that  he  claimed  to  be.  Elated  by 
his  success,  he  even  dared  to  give  the  bridle  reins 
a  shake,  say  "  Get  up !"  and  finally  to  touch  the 
side  of  his  steed  with  the  spur  that,  in  his  pride, 
he  had  fastened  to  one  of  his  boot-heels. 

The  effect  was  electrical.  In  an  instant  Bin 
ney  found  himself  hatless,  with  both  feet  out  of 
the  stirrups,  clinging  for  dear  life  to  the  pommel 
of  the  saddle,  and  wishing  himself  anywhere  but 
on  the  back  of  a  mule  dashing  madly,  at  full 
speed,  directly  into  camp. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  103 

"  Help !  help !"  he  shouted,  breathlessly.  "  Head 
him  off !  stop  him  somebody  !" 

Once  inside  that  square  of  tents,  the  mule  did 
not  seem  to  realize  the  possibility  of  again  pass 
ing  beyond  them,  but  tore  frantically  round 
and  round  the  inner  side  of  the  square,  as  though 
it  were  a  circus-ring.  Everybody  dropped  his 
work  and  rushed  out  to  witness  the  comical 
spectacle. 

"  Freeze  to  him,  Grip !"  cried  one. 

"  Give  him  his  head  I" 

"  What  made  you  leave  Barnum's  ?" 

"  Stand  up  on  his  back !" 

"  Don't  abuse  the  poor  mule !  It's  a  shame  to 
make  him  run  so !" 

These,  and  a  hundred  similar  cries,  mingled 
with  shouts  of  uproarious  laughter,  greeted  poor 
Binney  from  all  sides;  while  not  the  slightest 
attention  was  paid  to  his  piteous  entreaties  that 
somebody  would  stop  the  mule. 

At  length  these  cries  seemed  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  animal  himself ;  for  he  sudden 
ly  planted  his  fore-feet  and  stopped  so  abruptly 
that  Binney  was  flung  over  his  head  as  from  a 
catapult.  Then  the  mule  lifted  high  his  head 
and  uttered  a  prolonged  ear-splitting  bray  of 
defiance. 

Glen  had  sprung  forward  and  caught  the  ani- 


204  Campmates. 

mal's  bridle  almost  the  instant  he  stopped.  Now 
leading  him  to  where  Binney  sat,  dazed  but  un 
hurt,  he  asked,  soberly,  "  Do  you  want  to  try 
him  again,  Binney  ?" 

"  Try  him  again  !"  shouted  the  rodman,  an 
grily.  "  ISTo,  I  never  want  to  see  him  again ; 
but  if  you  think  he's  easy  to  ride,  why  don't 
you  try  him  yourself  ?" 

"  Yes,  try  him,  young  'un !  Give  him  another 
turn  around  the  ring,  Glen !"  shouted  the  spec 
tators,  anxious  to  have  their  fun  prolonged,  but 
having  no  idea  that  this  boy  from  Brimfield 
could  ride,  any  more  than  the  other. 

Glen  borrowed  a  pair  of  spurs,  soothed  the 
mule  for  a  moment,  sinched  the  girth  a  trifle 
tighter,  and,  with  a  sudden  leap,  vaulted  into  the 
saddle.  For  an  instant  the  animal  remained  mo 
tionless  with  astonishment ;  then  he  bounded 
into  the  air,  and  came  down  with  all  four  legs 
as  stiff  as  posts.  The  shock  would  have  been 
terrible  to  the  boy,  had  he  not  lifted  himself 
from  the  saddle  and  supported  his  whole  weight 
in  the  stirrups.  The  mule  repeated  this  move 
ment  several  times,  and  then  began  to  plunge 
and  kick.  But  the  saddle  in  which  Glen  sat 
was  a  deeply  hollowed,  high-pommelled,  Mexi 
can  affair,  built  for  just  such  occasions  as  this, 
and  so  the  plunging  might  have  been  kept  up 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  105 

all   day  without   disturbing   the   rider   in   the 
least. 

The  mule  laid  down  and  tried  to  roll,  while 
the  boy,  who  had  jumped  from  his  back,  stood 
quietly  by,  and  allowed  him  to  discover  the  folly 
of  the  attempt.  The  high  pommel  of  the  sad 
die  again  interfered ;  and  as  the  disgusted  ani 
mal  scrambled  to  his  feet,  he  again  found  his 
burr-like  rider  as  firmly  seated  on  his  back  as 
ever. 

For  a  moment  the  mule  hung  his  head  in  a 
dejected  manner,  as  though  thinking  out  some 
new  plan.  Suddenly  his  meditations  were  in 
terrupted  by  a  yell  directly  in  one  of  his  long 
ears,  and  a  sharp  pain  felt  in  both  sides  at  once. 
He  sprang  forward  to  escape  these  annoyances ; 
but  they  clung  to  him  as  close  as  did  his  new 
rider.  Faster  and  faster  he  flew,  while  harder 
and  harder  spurred  Glen,  and  louder  grew  his 
yells.  All  at  once  the  animal  stopped,  as  short 
as  on  the  former  occasion;  but  this  tune  the 
rider  did  not  fly  over  his  head.  The  fact  is,  the 
mule  was  now  so  thoroughly  frightened  and  be 
wildered  that  he  had  no  idea  of  stopping  until 
his  lower  jaw  was  jerked  back  so  sharply  that 
had  it  belonged  to  any  other  kind  of  an  animal 
it  must  have  been  dislocated.  Even  Glen  had 
no  idea  of  the  power  of  that  cruel  Mexican  bit, 


106  Campmates. 

and  was  almost  as  greatly  surprised  as  the  mule 
at  its  sudden  effect. 

Then  came  more  yelling,  more  spurring,  and 
more  frantic  dashing  around  that  tiresome  square. 
At  length  the  mule  spied  the  opening  through 
which  he  had  entered,  and,  rushing  through  it, 
he  sped  away  over  the  open  prairie,  thankful  to 
be  rid  of  those  bewildering  tents  and  shouting 
spectators,  even  though  his  rider  still  clung  as 
close  as  ever  to  that  Mexican  saddle. 

When  the  two  returned  to  camp,  half  an  hour 
later,  it  was  evident  that  the  most  perfect  under 
standing  existed  between  them ;  but  the  mule 
was  so  crestfallen  by  his  humiliation  that  for  a 
long  time  even  Binney  Gibbs  could  ride  and 
abuse  him  with  impunity. 

As  for  Glen,  his  reputation  as  a  horseman  was 
firmly  established,  and  from  that  day  until  he 
got  a  horse  of  his  own  there  was  always  some 
body  willing  and  anxious  to  place  a  mount  at 
his  disposal. 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

ON    GUARD    AT    NIGHT. 

A  FEW  mornings  after  Glen's  experience  with 
the  rnule,  the  white  tents  of  Camp  Lyle  were 
struck;  and  at  sunrise  the  long  slow -moving 
trains  of  wagons  had  covered  the  first  mile  of 
the  many  hundreds  lying  between  it  and  the 
Pacific.  The  last  railroad  had  been  left  behind, 
and  the  sound  of  its  whistle  was  heard  no  more. 
Already  our  young  explorer  was  learning,  from 
his  more  experienced  comrades,  to  distinguish  an 
Indian  pony  and  lodge-pole  trail  from  that  of  a 
buffalo,  and  a  buffalo  wallow  from  an  ordinary 
mud-hole.  Already  he  had  seen  his  first  prairie- 
dog  town,  and  had  gazed  curiously  at  several 
bleached  skulls  of  the  mighty  bison,  some  of 
which  were  still  partially  covered  with  shaggy 
hair.  Already,  too,  he  was  filled  with  that  sense 
of  glorious  freedom  and  boundless  possibility  that 
can  on.y  be  breathed  with  the  air  of  unlimited 
space.  Glen  was  surprised  to  find  that,  instead 
of  being  level,  as  he  had  always  thought  them, 
the  Plains  rolled,  in  vast  undulations,  having  a 


108  Campmates. 

general  north  and  south  direction,  so  that,  as 
the  wagons  were  moving  west,  they  were  always 
ascending  some  long  slope,  or  descending  its  far 
ther  side.  He  was  almost  startled,  too,  by  the 
intense  silence  brooding  over  them,  and  unbroken 
at  a  short  distance  from  the  train,  save  by  the 
plaintive  song  of  meadow-larks. 

But  nobody  was  allowed  to  stray  far  from  the 
wagons,  even  to  note  the  silence  of  the  Plains, 
for  fear  lest  it  might  be  broken  by  very  un 
pleasant  sounds.  All  the  "horse  Indians"  of 
the  country  were  leagued  together,  that  sum 
mer,  to  fight  the  whites.  North  of  the  Platte, 
Sioux,  Blackfeet,  and  Crows  had  smoked  the 
peace-pipe,  and  united  to  harass  the  builders  of 
the  Union  Pacific.  South  of  that  river,  Chey- 
ennes,  Kiowas,  Comanches,  and  Arrapahoes  were 
waging  common  war  against  those  who  were 
turning  the  buffalo  pastures  into  farms,  and  mak 
ing  such  alarming  inroads  into  the  vast  herds 
upon  which  they  depended  for  meat.  The  In 
dians  were  well  armed,  well  mounted,  and  de~ 
termined.  Ouster,  with  the  Seventh  Cavalry, 
was  ranging  the  Platte  valley,  and  the  country 
between  it  and  the  Republican,  so  that,  ji  that 
vicinity,  Indians  were  becoming  scarce.  South  of 
that,  however,  and  particularly  along  the  Smoky 
Hill,  the  valley  of  which  General  Lyle's  expedi- 


A  Story  of  ike  Plains.  109 

tion  was  ascending,  Indians  had  never  been  more 
plentiful  or  troublesome  than  now. 

Every  day  brought  its  rumors  of  murdered 
settlers,  captured  wagon -trains,  besieged  stage 
stations,  and  of  the  heavily  guarded  stages  them 
selves  turned  back,  or  only  reaching  their  destina 
tions  after  fierce  running  fights,  riddled  with  bul 
lets,  and  bearing  sad  loads  of  dead  and  wounded 
passengers.  Along  the  entire  Smoky  Hill  route, 
from  the  end  of  the  railroad  to  Denver,  a  dis 
tance  of  four  hundred  miles,  were  only  three 
small  forts,  with  garrisons  of  three  or  four  com 
panies  each ;  and  the  strength  of  these  garrisons 
was  constantly  weakened  by  the  demand  for  es 
corts  to  stages  and  emigrant  trains.  Thus  the 
exploring  expedition  was  forced  to  depend  large 
ly  on  its  own  resources,  and  must  fight  its  way 
through  as  best  it  could.  Arms  were  therefore 
supplied  to  all  its  members  who  did  not  possess 
them,  and,  from  the  outset,  a  strong  camp  guard 
was  posted  each  night. 

At  the  end  of  a  day's  march  the  wagon -master, 
or  "  wagon-boss,"  who  always  rode  ahead  of  the 
train  mounted  on  a  sleek  saddle  mule,  would 
select  a  camping-ground,  generally  where  wood, 
water,  and  grass  were  to  be  had,  and,  turning 
from  the  beaten  trail,  would  lead  the  way  to  it. 
Where  he  halted  the  first  wagon  also  stopped. 


110  Campmates. 

Then  he  would  move  on  a  short  distance,  and 
the  second  wagon  would  follow  him,  until  it  was 
ordered  to  wheel  into  line  with  the  first.  "When 
all  thus  occupied  their  designated  positions,  they 
either  formed  a  semicircle  on  the  bank  of  the 
stream,  with  their  poles  pointing  inward,  were 
arranged  in  two  parallel  lines  facing  each  other, 
or,  if  the  place  was  very  much  exposed,  they 
would  form  a  complete  circle,  with  each  tongue 
overlapping  the  hind -wheels  of  the  wagon  be 
fore  it. 

The  minute  the  train  halted,  all  the  stock  was 
unharnessed  or  unsaddled,  and,  under  guard  of 
two  mounted  teamsters,  were  allowed  to  graze 
on  the  sweet  buffalo  grass,  within  sight  of  camp, 
until  sunset,  when  they  were  watered  and  driven 
in.  Then  each  team  was  fastened  to  its  own 
wagon  and  given  its  ration  of  corn.  All  the 
saddle  animals  and  spare  stock  were  securely 
picketed  within  the  line  of  wagons,  thus  leav 
ing  the  smallest  possible  chance  for  an  Indian  to 
get  anywhere  near  them. 

"While  the  animals  were  being  thus  attended 
to,  the  men  were  hard  at  work  pitching  tents, 
getting  out  blankets  and  such  baggage  as  might 
be  needed,  collecting  fuel  for  the  camp-fires, 
fetching  water  for  the  cooks,  and,  if  the  location 
of  the  camp  was  considered  especially  dangerous, 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  Ill 

in  digging  rifle-pits  in  which  the  guards  for  the 
night  would  be  posted.  All  this  work  was  per 
formed  by  regular  details,  changed  each  day,  and 
announced  each  morning  at  breakfast-time.  Thus, 
one  day  Glen  would  find  himself  on  the  detail  for 
pitching  headquarter  tents,  and  the  next  answer 
ing  the  cook's  imperative  demands  for  water. 
Or,  provided  with  a  gunny-sack,  he  might  be 
scouring  the  immediate  neighborhood  for  a  sup 
ply  of  dry  buffalo  chips,  with  which  to  eke  out 
the  scanty  stock  of  fire- wood.  He  always  per 
formed  these  tasks  cheerfully  and  faithfully ;  not 
that  he  liked  them,  but  because  he  realized  their 
necessity,  and  saw  that  all  the  others,  below  the 
rank  of  assistant  engineer,  were  obliged  to  do  the 
same  things. 

Binney  Gibbs,  however,  considered  such  duties 
irksome  and  demeaning.  He  thought  it  very 
hard  that  the  son  of  a  wealthy  man,  a  prize 
scholar,  and  a  rodman,  such  as  he  was,  should 
be  compelled  to  act  as  a  cook's  assistant.  To 
show  his  contempt  for  the  work  he  performed 
it  awkwardly  and  with  much  grumbling.  The 
cooks  were  not  slow  to  discover  this;  and, 
as  a  cook  is  a  power  in  camp  as  well  as  else 
where,  they  began  to  make  things  as  unpleasant 
as  possible  for  him.  It  was  wonderful  how  much 
more  water  was  needed  when  it  was  his  turn  to 


Campmates. 

keep  them  supplied  than  it  was  when  any  one 
else  was  on  duty.  Then,  too,  while  Glen's  will 
ingness  and  good  -  nature  were  rewarded  by 
many  a  tidbit,  slyly  slipped  into  his  tin  plate,  it 
chanced  that  Binney  always  got  the  toughest 
pieces  of  meat,  the  odds  and  ends  of  everything, 
and,  whenever  he  asked  for  a  second  helping,  was 
told  that  there  was  none  of  that  particular  dish 
left.  He  tried  to  retaliate  by  complaining  of  the 
cooks  at  headquarters;  but,  as  he  could  prove 
nothing  against  them,  the  only  result  of  this  un 
wise  measure  was  that  he  got  less  to  eat  than 
ever,  and  but  for  a  hard-tack  barrel  that  was  al 
ways  open  to  everybody  would  have  been  on  a 
fair  way  to  starvation. 

Another  thing  Binney  hated  to  do  was  to  stand 
guard.  This  duty  came  to  each  one  in  turn,  every 
three  or  four  nights,  according  to  the  number  of 
sentinels  required,  and  on  a  night  of  duty  each 
one  was  obliged  to  keep  watch  "  two  hours  on 
and  four  off."  That  is,  if  Binney  or  Glen  went 
on  duty  at  six  o'clock,  he  would  be  relieved  at 
eight,  and  allowed  to  sleep  until  midnight,  when 
he  would  stand  guard  again  at  one  of  the  several 
posts  beyond  the  camp  limits,  until  two.  Then 
he  might  sleep  until  six,  when,  if  camp  was  not 
already  broken,  he  must  again  go  on  duty  until 
it  was,  and  the  wagon-train  was  in  motion. 


A  Story  of  tfie  Plains.  113 

Binney  declared  this  was  all  nonsense.  It  was 
well  enough,  he  said,  to  talk  about  Indians  at 
tacking  a  small  party,  or  a  stage  station  here  and 
there ;  but  as  for  bothering  a  large,  well-armed 
party  like  this,  they  simply  wouldn't  think  of 
doing  such  a  thing.  There  was  as  much  danger 
of  their  attacking  Fort  Eiley !  The  idea  of  wak 
ing  a  fellow  up  at  midnight,  and  sending  him  out 
on  the  prairie  to  listen  to  coyotes  and  screech- 
owls  for  two  hours!  It  was  ridiculous!  He 
might  as  well  be  enlisted  in  the  army  and  have 
done  with  it !  So  he  growled  and  grumbled, 
and  tried,  in  every  way  possible,  to  shirk  this 
guard  duty,  though  generally  without  success. 

Even  Glen  wondered  if  it  were  necessary  to 
keep  so  many  men  on  guard,  and  if  the  disagree 
able  duty  did  not  come  oftener  than  it  need.  At 
length,  however,  something  happened  to  convince 
these  boys  that  no  guard  against  the  wily  foes 
surrounding  them  could  be  too  strong  or  too 
carefully  kept. 

They  had  been  out  a  week,  and  were  in  the 
heart  of  the  Indian  country,  far  beyond  the  most 
advanced  settlements,  when,  one  evening,  camp 
was  pitched  on  a  level  bit  of  valley,  bounded  on 
one  side  by  bluffs  that  separated  it  from  the 
higher  plains.  On  the  other  side  flowed  a  creek 
bordered  by  a  growth  of  cottonwoods,  red  wfl- 


Campmates. 

lows,  and  tall,  rank  grass.  Beyond  the  creek  rose 
still  other  bluffs,  forming  the  eastern  boundary 
of  this  pleasant  valley.  From  time  immemorial 
the  place  had  been  a  favorite  resort  of  Indians, 
as  was  shown  by  the  abandoned  wick-i-ups,  lodge- 
poles,  and  quantities  of  bleached  buffalo  bones 
found  in  a  grove  of  great  cottonwoods  a  short 
distance  up  the  stream.  There  was,  however, 
nothing  to  indicate  that  they  had  occupied  the 
place  recently,  and  so,  though  the  one  topic  of 
conversation  about  the  camp-fires  at  supper-time 
was  Indians,  it  was  rather  of  those  belonging  to 
other  times  and  places  than  to  the  present. 

Suddenly,  from  the  top  of  the  bluff  behind  the 
camp,  came  half  a  dozen  shots,  and  the  sentinel 
who  had  been  posted  there  rushed  in,  shouting, 
"Indians!  Indians!"  This  time  the  enemy  pro  ved 
to  be  two  overland  stages,  loaded  with  mails  and 
troops,  who  had  fought  their  way  through  from 
Denver.  These  had  mistaken  the  sentinel  for  an 
Indian,  and  fired  at  him,  while  he,  thinking  from 
this  that  they  certainly  must  be  Indians,  had 
fired  back. 

Late  that  same  night  the  camp  was  again 
alarmed  by  a  shot  from  one  of  its  sentries. 
Everybody  sprang  from  his  tent,  rifle  in  hand, 
and  for  a  few  minutes  the  excitement  was  in 
tense.  It  was  succeeded  by  a  feeling  of  deep 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  115 

disgust  when  it  was  discovered  that  sentry  Bin- 
ney  Gibbs  had  fired  at  a  coyote  that  the  light 
of  the  newly  risen  moon  had  disclosed  prowling 
about  the  camp. 

When,  therefore,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing,  Glen  went  on  duty,  and  was  stationed  on 
the  edge  of  the  slope  leading  down  to  the  stream, 
Mr.  Brackett,  who  was  officer  of  the  guard, 
charged  him  not  to  fire  at  anything  unless  lie 
was  absolutely  sure  it  was  an  Indian. 

Glen  answered  that  he  certainly  would  not 
give  an  alarm  without  good  cause  for  so  doing ; 
and  Mr.  Brackett,  promising  to  visit  him  again 
at  the  end  of  an  hour,  went  softly  away  to  inspect 
the  next  post  on  his  round. 

"When,  at  the  end  of  an  hour,  the  officer  of  the 
guard  returned  to  the  post  where  he  had  left 
Glen,  the  boy  was  not  to  be  found.  In  vain  did 
Mr.  Brackett  call  his  name,  at  first  in  low  tones, 
and  then  louder.  In  vain  did  he  question  the  other 
sentries.  They  had  neither  seen  nor  heard  any 
thing  more  suspicious  than  an  occasional  coyote. 
In  vain  was  the  whole  camp  aroused  and  a  search 
made  through  its  tents  and  wagons.  Not  a  trace 
of  the  boy,  who  was  so  universally  liked,  was  to 
be  found.  He  had  disappeared  as  absolutely,  so 
far  as  they  were  concerned,  as  though  the  earth 
had  opened  and  swallowed  him. 


CHAPTER  XY. 

THE   SUSPICIOUS    MOVEMENTS    OF   CERTAIN   COYOTES. 

WHEN  Glen  was  left  lying  on  the  ground,  with 
his  rifle  beside  him,  peering  into  the  black  shad 
ows  of  the  undergrowth,  he  certainly  did  not 
anticipate  seeing  any  thing  more  dangerous  to 
his  own  safety,  or  that  of  the  sleeping  camp, 
than  coyotes,  and  he  had  already  learned  what 
cowardly  beasts  they  were.  How  absurd  it  was 
of  Binney  Gibbs  to  fire  at  one.  He  might  have 
known  what  it  was.  No  wonder  the  fellows 
were  provoked.  He  would  like  to  know  as 
much  as  Binney  did  about  some  things ;  but  he 
should  hate  to  be  as  silly  as  he  in  others.  How 
many  coyotes  there  were  to-night  anyhow.  He 
had  already  heard  their  short,  sharp  barks,  and 
long  dismal  howls  from  the  bluffs  behind  him, 
and  from  those  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
stream.  Now  another  of  the  weird  sounds  came 
floating  down  on  the  damp  night  air  from  the 
direction  of  the  old  Indian  camping -ground. 
Perhaps  that  fellow  was  howling  because  he 
couldn't  find  any  meat  on  those  bleached  buffalo 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  117 

bones.  "Weil,  no  wonder.  Glen  thought  he 
would  be  inclined  to  howl,  too,  over  such  a  dis 
appointment  as  that. 

It  was  not  absolutely  dark;  for,  though  the 
moon  was  in  its  last  quarter,  it  gave  considerable 
light  when  the  clouds  would  let  it;  but  they 
were  scurrying  across  the  sky  at  such  a  rate  that 
they  kept  it  hidden  most  of  the  time.  As  Glen 
was  facing  the  east,  it  lighted  the  spot  where  he 
lay  whenever  it  was  allowed  to  light  any  thing, 
and  made  the  darkness  of  the  underbrush,  at 
which  he  gazed,  blacker  than  ever.  It  was  for 
lorn  and  lonely  enough  without  the  moonlight ; 
but  Glen  thought  that  perhaps  it  was  better  to 
be  in  darkness  than  to  be  lighted  up  while  ene 
mies  might  possibly  be  gazing  at  him  from  the 
safe  cover  of  those  impenetrable  shadows.  How 
easily  a  rifle-shot  from  those  bushes  could  pick 
him  off  during  one  of  those  uncomfortable  little 
spells  of  moonlight. 

All  at  once  Glen  saw  another  light,  apparently 
on  the  edge  of  the  opposite  bluffs.  It  showed 
yellow  and  steady  for  a  second,  and  then  disap 
peared.  Was  it  an  Indian  signal,  or  a  newly 
risen  star  suddenly  obscured  by  clouds!  This 
was  a  question  calculated  to  keep  even  a  sleepy 
boy  wide  awake.  Perhaps  if  he  watched  closely 
he  would  see  it  again.  He  had  heard  a  great 


118  Campmates. 

deal  about  Indian  signals  lately,  and  knew  that, 
by  flashes  of  fire  at  night,  smokes,  waving  blan 
kets,  and  mirror  flashes  by  day,  they  could  trans 
mit  intelligence  across  the  plains  almost  as  read 
ily  as  white  men  could  do  the  same  thing  by  tele 
graph.  How  he  wished  he  understood  their  sig 
nals,  and  how  he  would  like  to  see  them  using 
them. 

Glen  was  very  curious  concerning  Indians — 
real  wild  ones — and  hoped  he  should  at  least 
catch  a  glimpse  of  some  before  the  trip  was 
ended.  It  would  be  too  absurd  to  return  to 
Brimfield,  after  crossing  the  Plains,  and  to  be 
obliged  to  confess  that  he  had  not  met  any. 

Hallo!  How  near  those  coyote  howls  were 
coming.  Wasn't  that  one  of  the  brutes  now, 
skulking  in  the  shadow  of  those  willows  ?  Cer 
tainly  something  was  moving  down  there.  Now 
there  were  two  of  them.  With  what  an  ugly 
snarl  they  greeted  each  other.  Still,  that  snarl 
was  a  comfort ;  for  it  proved  them  to  be  really 
coyotes.  At  least  so  thought  Glen.  Just  then 
the  boy  sneezed.  He  couldn't  have  helped  it  to 
save  him,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  moon 
shone  out.  The  coyotes  had  disappeared.  Per 
haps  they  thought  he  would  fire  at  them,  as  Bin- 
ney  Gibbs  had.  But  they  needn't  be  afraid. 
He  wasn't  going  to  alarm  the  camp  on  account 
of  coyotes. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  119 

Another  cloud  swallowed  the  moon,  and  again 
Glen  thought  he  could  distinguish  a  black  object 
moving  through  the  shadows.  Although  he 
strained  his  eyes,  and  watched  intently,  almost 
holding  his  breath  in  his  excitement,  he  could 
see  only  one  object,  and  it  certainly  was  moving 
towards  him.  Where  was  the  other  ?  If  he  only 
dared  fire  at  that  one!  The  boy  clutched  his 
rifle  nervously.  The  coyote  came  sneaking  on, 
very  slowly,  frequently  stopping  and  remaining 
motionless  for  several  seconds ;  but  Glen  never 
took  his  eyes  from  it.  If  he  only  had,  just  long 
enough  to  give  one  look  at  the  human  figure 
creeping  noiselessly  towards  him  from  behind ; 
but  no  thought  of  danger  from  that  direction 
entered  his  head. 

As  the  Indian,  gliding  up  behind  the  young 
sentry,  reached  a  point  from  which  he  could  dis 
tinguish  the  outlines  of  the  recumbent  figure  be 
fore  him,  he  cautiously  raised  himself  on  one 
knee,  and  fitted  a  steel-headed  arrow  to  the  bow 
that  had  been  slung  on  his  back.  In  another  in 
stant  it  would  have  sped  on  its  fatal  mission, 
and  Glen's  career  would  have  ended  as  suddenly 
as  the  snuffing  of  a  candle-flame.  He  was  saved 
by  a  gleam  of  moonlight,  that  caused  the  Indian 
to  sink,  like  a  shadow,  into  the  grass.  The  co 
yote  also  remained  motionless.  Then  the  moon 


1QO  Cam/pmaies. 

was  again  obscured,  and  the  Indian  again  rose 
to  a  crouching  posture.  He  had  evidently 
changed  his  plans ;  for  he  no  longer  held  the 
bow  in  his  hand.  That  gleam  of  moonlight  had 
showed  him  that  the  sentry  was  only  a  boy, 
instead  of  the  man  he  had  supposed,  and  he 
determined  to  try  for  a  captive  instead  of  a 
scalp. 

The  next  instant  he  sprang  forward  with  the 
noiseless  bound  of  a  panther,  and  the  breath  was 
driven  from  Glen's  body  as  the  Indian  lighted 
on  his  back,  with  one  hand  over  the  boy's  mouth. 
The  coyote  rose  on  its  hind-legs,  and  leaped  for 
ward  at  the  same  moment.  In  a  twinkling  its 
skin  was  flung  over  Glen's  head,  and  so  tightly 
fastened  about  his  neck  that  he  was  at  once 
smothered  and  strangled.  He  tried  to  cry  out, 
but  could  not.  He  did  not  even  know  what  had 
happened,  or  who  these  were  that,  swiftly  and 
with  resistless  force,  were  half  dragging,  half 
carrying  him  between  them. 

For  a  moment  he  entertained  the  wild  hope 
that  it  was  a  practical  joke  of  some  of  the  boys 
from  camp.  That  hope  was  speedily  dispelled ; 
for,  as  his  captors  gained  the  shelter  of  the  trees 
on  the  bank  of  the  stream,  they  halted  long 
enough  to  secure  his  arms  firmly  behind  him, 
and  to  loosen  the  coyote-skin  so  that  he  could 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  1%1 

breathe  a  trifle  more  freely.  Then  he  was  again 
hurried  forward. 

After  travelling  what  seemed  to  the  poor  boy 
like  an  interminable  distance,  and  when  he  was 
so  faint  and  dizzy  with  the  heat  and  suffocation 
of  that  horrible  wolf-skin  that  he  felt  he  could 
not  go  a  step  farther,  it  was  suddenly  snatched 
from  his  head,  and  the  strong  grasp  of  his-  arms 
was  let  go.  The  boy  staggered  against  the  trunk 
of  a  tree,  and  would  hare  fallen  but  for  its  sup 
port.  For  a  few  moments  he  saw  nothing,  and 
was  conscious  of  nothing  save  the  delicious  cool 
ness  of  the  air  and  the  delight  of  breathing  it 
freely  once  more. 

The  halt  was  a  short  one ;  for  already  a  faint 
light,  different  from  that  of  the  moon,  was  steal 
ing  over  the  eastern  bluffs,  and  the  Indians  must 
have  their  prisoner  far  away  from  there  by  sun 
rise.  There  were  three  of  them  now,  as  well  as 
some  ponies  and  a  mule.  Glen  could  also  see  a 
great  many  white  objects  scattered  about  the 
ground.  They  were  bleached  buffalo  bones.  As 
he  recognized  them,  he  knew  he  was  at  the  old 
Indian  camping-ground  he  had  visited  the  even 
ing  before,  and  from  which  one  of  those  coyote 
howls  had  seemed  to  come.  So  it  had ;  but  it 
had  been  uttered  by  the  young  Cheyenne  left 
there  in  charge  of  the  animals,  in  answer  to  the 


Ca/m/pmates. 

howls  of  the  two  other  human  coyotes,  who, 
prowling  about  the  engineers'  camp,  had  finally 
made  Glen,  a  prisoner. 

They  were  Cheyenne  scouts,  belonging  to  the 
Dog  Soldier  band,  at  that  time  the  most  famous 
fighters  of  that  warlike  tribe.  They  had  been 
sent  out  from  their  village,  on  the  American 
Fork,  two  days  before,  to  find  out  what  they 
could  concerning  General  Lyle's  exploring  expe 
dition,  rumors  of  which  had  already  reached  the 
ears  of  their  chiefs.  So  successfully  had  they 
accomplished  their  mission  that  they  had  not 
only  discovered  all  they  wanted  to  know  about 
these  new  invaders  of  their  territory,  but  had 
actually  taken  one  of  their  number  prisoner. 
Besides  this  they  had  stolen  three  fine  saddle 
ponies,  and  a  powerful  white  mule,  from  the 
corral  of  a  stage  station  some  twenty  miles  up 
the  trail.  Now,  therefore,  as  they  swung  their 
captive  on  the  back  of  the  mule,  and  secured 
him  by  passing  a  thong  of  rawhide  about  his 
ankles  and  beneath  the  animal's  belly,  their 
hearts  were  filled  with  rejoicing  over  their  suc 
cess. 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  CHEYENNES. 

ESPECIALLY  happy  was  the  youngest  of  the 
thx-ee  Indians,  who  was  a  boy  of  about  Glen's 
age.  This  was  the  first  scout  he  had  ever  been 
allowed  to  go  on ;  and,  as  he  reflected  upon  the 
glory  of  their  return  to  the  village,  with  that 
prisoner,  those  stolen  ponies,  and  all  the  valuable 
information  they  had  acquired,  he  wondered  if 
there  was  any  happier  or  prouder  boy  living 
than  he.  He  even  had  a  kindly  feeling  towards 
the  white  boy,  who,  by  allowing  himself  to  be 
captured,  had  contributed  so  largely  to  the  hon 
ors  that  would  be  showered  upon  him,  and  he 
grinned  good-humoredly  in  Glen's  face  as  soon 
as  the  growing  daylight  enabled  him  to  see  it 
plainly.  Up  to  this  time  the  Cheyenne  boy  had 
only  been  known  as  "Blackbird;"  but  he  had 
set  forth  on  this  scout  with  the  firm  determina 
tion  of  winning  a  name  more  worthy  of  a  young 
warrior.  Had  he  not  already  done  so?  His 
companions  had  complimented  him  on  his  care 
fully  executed  imitation  of  a  coyote's  howl,  and 


Campmates. 

one  of  them  had  suggested  that  he  must  havo 
a  veritable  wolfs  tongue  in  his  mouth:  "Wolf- 
Tongue  !"  There  was  a  fine  name  for  a  young 
Dog  soldier.  What  if  he  should  be  allowed  to 
keep  it  for  his  own  ?  There  was  not  another  boy 
of  his  age  in  the  village  with  such  a  name  as 
that.  Now  he  began  to  make  some  curious  mo 
tions  with  his  hands,  and  poor  Glen,  who,  in  spite 
of  his  own  wretchedness,  could  not  keep  from 
watching  him  with  some  curiosity,  wondered 
what  the  young  Indian  was  up  to.  Dropping 
the  bridle  on  his  pony's  neck,  the  boy  lifted  both 
hands  to  the  level  of  his  shoulders  with  the  first 
two  fingers  of  each  extended  upward  and  for 
ward,  while  the  thumbs  and  other  fingers  were 
tightly  closed.  At  the  same  time  he  stuck  out 
his  tongue.  He  was  spelling  out  his  new  name 
in  the  Indian  sign  language,  just  to  see  how  it 
would  look. 

The  boy  only  held  his  hands  in  this  position 
for  an  instant,  and  then  dropped  them  to  clutch 
a  gun  that  was  slipping  from  his  knees,  across 
which  he  had  laid  it.  The  movement  attracted 
Glen's  attention  to  the  gun,  and  his  face  flushed 
angrily  as  he  recognized  his  own  precious  rifle, 
in  which  he  had  taken  such  pride  and  delight. 
It  was  too  bad.  Then  the  thought  flashed  into 
his  mind,  would  he  ever  again  care  for  a  rifle  or 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  125 

anything  else  in  this  world?  What  did  Indians 
do  with  prisoners  ?  Tortured  them,  and  put  them 
to  death,  of  course.  Did  not  all  the  stories  he 
had  ever  read  agree  on  that  point  ?  Could  it  be 
possible  that  he,  Glen  Eddy,  was  to  be  tortured, 
perhaps  burned  at  the  stake?  Was  that  what 
coming  out  on  the  Plains  meant  ?  Had  life  with 
all  its  hopes  and  joys  nearly  ended  for  him  ?  It 
could  not  be !  There  must  be  some  escape  from 
such  a  horrible  fate !  The  poor  boy  gazed  about 
him  wildly,  but  saw  only  the  endless  sea  of  grass 
stretching  to  the  horizon  on  all  sides,  and  the 
stern  faces  of  his  captors,  one  of  whom  held  the 
end  of  a  lariat  that  was  fastened  about  the  mule's 
neck. 

They  all  carried  bows  and  arrows  slung  to 
their  backs,  as  well  as  rifles  that  lay  across  their 
knees.  They  wore  moccasins  and  leggings  of 
buckskin,  but  no  clothing  above  their  waists. 
Their  saddles  were  simply  folded  blankets,  which 
would  be  their  covering  at  night.  In  place  of 
stirrups  they  used  strips  of  buffalo  hide  with  a 
loop  at  each  end.  These  were  thrown  across  the 
blanket  saddles,  and  the  feet  of  the  riders  were 
supported  in  the  loops.  One  of  them  had  a  pair 
of  field-glasses  slung  by  a  strap  from  his  shoul 
ders. 

Until  nearly  noon  they  pushed  westward  across 


1%6  Cwmpmates. 

the  trackless  undulations  of  the  prairie,  and  Glen 
became  so  faint  from  hunger  and  thirst,  and  so 
stiff  from  his  painful  position,  that  he  could 
hardly  retain  his  seat.  His  mule  was  a  long- 
limbed,  raw-boned  animal,  whose  gait  never  va 
ried  from  an  excruciatingly  hard  trot.  Finally, 
the  boy's  sufferings  reached  such  a  point  that  it 
was  all  he  could  do  to  keep  from  screaming,  and 
he  wondered  if  any  torture  could  be  worse. 

At  length  they  came  to  a  tiny  stream,  fringed 
with  a  slender  growth  of  willows,  and  here  a 
long  rest  was  taken.  Glen  could  not  stand  when 
his  ankles  were  unbound,  and  he  was  allowed  to 
slip  from  the  mule's  back,  but  fell  heavily  to  the 
ground.  The  Indian  boy  said  something  to  his 
companions,  one  of  whom  replied  with  a  grunt, 
whereupon  the  lad  unbound  the  prisoner's  arms, 
and  helped  him  to  reach  the  edge  of  the  stream. 
He  was  wonderfully  revived  by  plunging  his  head 
into  the  cool  water,  and  the  young  Indian,  who 
seemed  a  good-natured  sort  of  a  chap,  assisted  to 
restore  the  circulation  in  his  wrists  and  ankles 
by  rubbing  them  vigorously.  The  men  smiled 
scornfully  at  this ;  but  the  boy  rubbed  away  with 
a  hearty  good- will,  and  smiled  back  at  them.  He 
wanted  to  get  this  prisoner  into  the  village  in  as 
good  a  condition  as  possible,  and  was  perfectly 
willing  to  be  laughed  at,  if  he  could  only  accom- 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

plish  his  object.  He  even  went  so  far  as  to  kin 
dle  a  small  fire  of  dry,  barkless  wood,  that  would 
make  but  little  smoke,  and  heat  a  strip  of  dried 
buffalo-meat  over  its  coals  for  the  prisoner  to  eat, 
though  wondering  at  a  taste  that  did  not  find 
raw  meat  just  as  palatable  as  cooked.  Then  he 
tried  to  converse  with  Glen ;  but,  as  the  latter 
did  not  understand  either  Cheyenne  or  the  sign 
language,  and  as  the  only  English  word  Wolf- 
Tongue  knew  was  "  How,"  this  attempt  proved 
a  failure. 

How  Glen  wished  he  could  talk  with  this  In 
dian  boy.  Why  were  not  white  boys  taught  the 
Indian  language  in  school,  so  as  to  be  prepared 
for  such  emergencies?  It  would  be  so  much 
more  valuable  than  Latin.  He  wondered  if  he 
would  have  studied  it  any  harder  than  he  had 
other  things,  if  it  had  been  included  in  the  Brim- 
field  High  School  course.  How  far  away  Brim- 
field  seemed !  What  wouldn't  he  give  to  be  there 
at  this  moment  ?  How  would  they  feel  at  home 
if  they  could  see  him  now  ? 

At  length  it  was  time  to  go  on  again.  The 
animals,  which  had  been  hobbled  to  prevent  them 
from  straying,  left  the  juicy  grasses  of  the  bot 
tom-land  with  reluctance;  and,  with  a  heavy 
heart  and  still  aching  body,  Glen  again  mounted 
his  mule.  His  saddle  was  the  coyote -skin  that 


1%8  Campmatea. 

had  been  thrown  over  his  head  when  he  was 
captured.  £fow  he  was  given  a  pair  of  raw-hide 
Indian  stirrups ;  while,  though  his  hands  were 
again  tied  behind  his  back,  his  feet  were  left  un 
bound.  He  therefore  rode  much  more  comfort 
ably  now  than  before,  and  Wolf-Tongue,  who 
seemed  to  consider  the  prisoner  as  his  especial 
property,  was  allowed  to  hold  the  end  of  his 
lariat. 

All  the  movements  of  these  scouts  were  as  care 
fully  guarded  as  though  they  were  surrounded 
by  enemies.  They  avoided  soft  places  where  a 
trail  might  be  left,  and  whenever  they  ascended 
a  swell  of  the  prairie  they  halted  just  before 
reaching  the  top.  One  of  them,  dismounting, 
would  then  creep  cautiously  forward,  and,  with 
out  exposing  his  body  above  the  crest,  would 
gaze  long  and  searchingly  in  every  direction. 
Not  until  he  was  satisfied  that  no  human  being 
was  within  range  of  his  vision  would  he  show 
himself  on  the  summit,  and  beckon  his  comrades 
to  join  him. 

The  afternoon  was  half  gone,  when,  on  one  of 
these  occasions,  the  scout  who  had  just  crept  to 
the  top  of  an  elevation  was  seen  by  the  others 
to  gaze  long  and  steadily  in  a  particular  direc 
tion  through  his  field-glass.  At  length,  appar 
rently  satisfied  with  what  he  saw,  he  stood  up, 


A  Story  of  the  Plows.  1%9 

and  flashed  a  dazzling  ray  of  sunlight  from  a 
small  mirror  that  he  held  in  his  hand.  Again 
and  again  did  he  send  that  flash  over  miles  of 
prairie,  before  he  saw  the  answering  flash  for 
which  he  was  watching.  Then  he  called  the 
others  up ;  they  talked  earnestly  together  for  a 
few  minutes,  and,  having  reached  some  conclu 
sion,  they  galloped  rapidly  away,  almost  at  right 
angles  to  the  course  they  had  been  following. 

Glen  wondered  what  this  movement  meant; 
but  it  was  not  until  they  had  ridden  for  nearly 
an  hour  that  his  unasked  questions  were  an 
swered.  Then,  as  though  by  magic,  so  unex 
pectedly  did  they  appear,  a,  score  or  more  of 
Indians  seemed  to  spring  from  the  ground  and 
surround  them.  It  was  a  Cheyenne  war-party. 
Their  ponies,  under  watchful  guard,  grazed  in  a 
slight  depression  to  one  side  of  them,  and  their 
scouts  kept  a  keen  lookout  from  a  rise  of  ground 
beyond. 

While  these  warriors  were  exchanging  greet 
ings  with  the  new-comers,  and  regarding  the 
prisoner  with  unconcealed  satisfaction,  two  white 
men,  utterly  unsuspicious  of  their  presence  so 
near  them,  were  lounging  in  front  of  the  Lost 
Creek  stage  station,  less  than  a  mile  away.  From 
this  station  the  scouts  had  stolen  their  ponies  and 
the  white  mule  two  nights  before. 


130  Campmates. 

The  ranch  and  stable  stood  side  by  side,  and 
were  low,  one-story  buildings,  with  Avails  of  a 
soft  sandstone,  quarried  near  by,  and  roofs  of 
poles  covered  with  sods.  Behind  them  was  a 
corral  enclosed  by  a  low  stone  wall.  The  ranch 
and  stable  were  connected  by  a  narrow  subter 
ranean  passage,  and  another  led  from  the  house 
to  a  "dug-out,"  or  square  pit,  some  ten  yards 
from  it.  This  " dug-out"  had  a  roof  of  poles 
heavily  covered  with  earth  and  sods ;  while,  just 
at  the  surface  of  the  ground,  port-holes  opened 
on  all  sides.  A  similar  pit,  on  the  other  side, 
could  be  reached  from  the  stable,  and  another, 
in  the  rear  of  the  station,  was  connected  with 
the  corral. 

Lost  Creek  Station  had  suffered  greatly  at  the 
hands  of  Indians  that  summer.  Its  inmates  had 
been  killed,  and  its  stock  run  off.  Now  but  two 
men  were  left  to  guard  it.  This  afternoon  they 
were  watching  anxiously  for  the  stage  from  the 
east,  which  was  some  hours  overdue. 

Suddenly,  as  they  gazed  along  the  distant  wag 
on  trail,  there  came  a  thunderous  rush  of  hoofs 
from  behind  the  station.  But  the  men  had  heard 
the  sound  before,  and  did  not  need  to  look  to 
know  what  it  meant. 

"  They're  after  us  again,  Joe !"  exclaimed  one, 
in  a  disgusted  tone,  as  they  sprang  into  the  ranch 


A  Story  of  the  Flaws.  131 

and  barred  its  heavy  door  behind  them.  A  mo 
ment  later  they  were  in  the  "dug-out"  behind 
the  corral,  and  the  gleaming  barrels  of  two  rifles 
were  thrust  from  two  of  its  narrow  port-holes. 

"  I  swear,  Joe !  if  one  of  them  hasn't  the  cheek 
to  ride  old  Snow-ball,  and  he's  in  the  lead,  too. 
You  drop  him,  and  I'll  take  the  next  one." 

There  were  two  reports.  A  white  mule  pitched 
heavily  forward  and  its  rider  was  flung  to  the 
ground.  A  wounded  Indian  clung  to  his  pony. 
Then  the  whole  band  wheeled  and  dashed  back 
to  where  they  had  come  from,  taking  both  their 
wounded  warrior  and  the  one  who  had  been  flung 
to  the  ground  with  them. 

"  Did  you  notice  that  the  fellow  I  dropped  had 
a  white  man's  hat  on  ?"  asked  Joe,  as  the  two 
men  watched  the  retreat  of  their  foes. 

"  Yes,  and  white  men's  clothes  on,  too.  I  won 
der  who  he  murdered  and  robbed  to  get  'em  ?" 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A   CHEYENNE   WAR-PARTY. 

THE  war-party,  detected  by  the  wonderful  eye- 
sight  of  the  Cheyenne  scout  while  they  were  yet 
miles  away  from  him,  had  been  for  more  than 
a  week  engaged  in  attacking  stages  and  wagon- 
trains  on  the  Smoky  Hill  Trail.  Hiding  behind 
some  slight  elevation,  or  in  a  cottonwood  thicket 
near  the  road,  with  keen-eyed  scouts  always  on 
the  lookout,  they  would  burst  like  a  whirlwind 
on  their  unsuspecting  victims,  pour  in  a  withering 
volley  of  bullets  and  arrows,  and  disappear,  al 
most  before  a  return  shot  could  he  fired.  Some 
times  they  would  maintain  a  running  fight  for 
miles  with  a  stage,  their  fleet  ponies  easily  keep 
ing  pace  with  its  frantic  mules,  and  many  a  one 
thus  fell  into  their  hands.  Its  fate  was  always 
the  same.  If  any  of  its  defenders  survived  the 
fight  they  were  either  killed  or  reserved  for  the 
worse  fate  of  captives.  Its  mail-sacks  were  ripped 
open  and  their  contents  scattered  far  and  wide. 
Finally  it  was  set  on  fire  and  destroyed. 

Sometimes  the  stages  escaped;  in  which  case 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  133 

their  passengers  had  marvellous  tales  to  tell. 
One  of  these,  that  reached  the  safety  of  General 
Lyle's  wagon-train  just  in  time  to  avoid  capture, 
had  but  one  living  passenger,  a  woman  who  was 
not  even  wounded  during  the  almost  continuous 
storm  of  arrows  and  bullets  of  a  ten-mile  running 
fight.  Four  dead  men,  one  of  whom  was  her 
husband,  were  inside  the  coach,  and  another 
was  on  the  box  with  the  driver.  The  latter  was 
wounded,  and  the  mules  fairly  bristled  with 
arrows.  The  stage  itself  was  shivered  and  splin 
tered  in  every  part  by  the  shower  of  lead  that 
had  been  poured  into  it,  and  many  a  blood-stained 
letter  from  its  mail -sacks  afterwards  carried  a 
shudder  into  distant  Eastern  homes. 

This,  then,  was  the  work  of  the  war-party  who 
were  gathered  about  Glen  Eddy ;  and,  even  now, 
they  were  impatiently  awaiting  the  appearance 
of  the  stage  from  the  east  that  was  due  that 
day.  For  this  occasion  they  had  planned  a 
new  form  of  attack.  It  was  not  to  be  made 
until  the  stage  reached  the  ranch.  There,  while 
its  mules  were  being  changed,  and  its  occupants 
were  off  their  guard,  the  Indians  proposed  to  dash 
out  from  the  nearest  place  of  concealment  and 
attempt  the  capture  of  both  it  and  the  station  at 
the  same  time.  It  was  a  well-conceived  plan, 
and  might  have  been  successfully  carried  out,  but 


134  Campmates. 

for  the  arrival  of  the  three  scouts,  who  were  now 
so  proudly  exhibiting  their  prisoner  and  telling 
the  story  of  his  capture.  Before  they  had  half 
finished,  a  few  dazzling  flashes  of  light  from  the 
mirrors  of  the  distant  lookouts  announced  that 
the  eastern  stage  was  in  sight. 

A  minute  later  the  warriors  were  mounted 
and  riding  cautiously  towards  a  point  but  a 
short  distance  from  the  ranch,  where  they  could 
still  remain  concealed  from  it  until  the  moment 
of  making  their  final  dash.  The  three  scouts, 
being  on  other  duty,  were  not  expected  to  take 
part  in  the  fight,  nor  had  they  any  intention  of 
so  doing,  much  as  they  would  have  liked  to ;  but 
they  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  witness 
it.  So  they,  with  their  prisoner,  followed  close 
behind  the  others  to  their  new  place  of  conceal 
ment.  When  they  reached  it,  these  three,  with 
Glen,  stood  a  little  apart  from  the  rest,  so  as  not 
to  interfere  with  their  movements. 

Up  to  this  moment,  the  boy  had  not  the  least 
idea  of  what  was  about  to  take  place,  nor  where 
he  was.  There  was  nothing  to  indicate  that  a 
stage  ranch  and  a  well-travelled  wagon  road  lay 
just  beyond  the  ridge  before  him.  He  wondered 
what  these  Indians  were  up  to ;  but  he  wondered 
still  more  when  they  would  go  into  camp,  and 
give  him  a  chance  to  dismount  from  the  back  of 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  135 

that  hard-trotting  mule ;  for  his  aches  and  pains 
had  again  become  very  hard  to  bear.  In  spite 
of  his  thoughts  being  largely  centred  upon  him 
self,  Glen  could  not  help  noticing  the  uneasy 
movements  of  his  steed,  and  his  impatient  snuff- 
ings  of  the  air,  that  began  as  soon  as  they  came 
to  a  halt.  The  scouts  noticed  them,  too,  and 
watched  the  mule  narrowly. 

Suddenly  the  animal  threw  up  his  great  head, 
and  in  another  instant  would  have  announced 
his  presence  to  all  the  country  thereabout  by  a 
sonorous,  far-reaching  bray.  Before  he  could 
open  his  mouth,  however,  one  of  the  scouts 
sprang  from  his  pony  and  seized  him  by  the 
nose.  In  the  struggle  that  followed,  the  end  of 
the  lariat  held  by  Wolf-Tongue  was  jerked  from 
his  hand.  At  the  same  moment  the  mule  suc 
ceeded  in  shaking  off  the  scout  with  such  vio 
lence  that  he  staggered  for  nearly  a  rod  before 
recovering  his  balance.  Then,  so  quickly  that 
Glen  was  very  nearly  flung  from  his  back,  the 
animal  sprang  to  the  crest  of  the  little  ridge, 
and  dashed,  with  astonishing  speed,  towards  the 
corral  that  had  been  his  home  for  so  long,  and 
which  he  had  scented  so  plainly  the  moment  he 
reached  its  vicinity. 

Of  course  the  entire  body  of  Indians  was  in 
instant  pursuit — not  of  the  mule,  but  of  the  pris- 


136  Campmates. 

oner  that  he  was  bearing  from  them.  Like  a 
thunderclap  out  of  a  clear  sky,  they  rushed  down 
that  slope,  every  pony  doing  his  best,  and  their 
riders  yelling  like  demons.  From  the  first,  Wolf- 
Tongue  took  the  lead.  It  was  his  prisoner  who 
was  escaping,  his  first  one.  He  must  have  him 
again.  He  would  almost  rather  die  than  lose 
him.  So  he  lashed  his  pony  furiously  with  the 
quirt,  or  Indian  riding- whip  of  rawhide  fastened 
to  his  wrist,  and  leaned  far  over  on  his  neck,  and 
yelled,  and  beat  the  animal's  sides  with  his  moc- 
casined  feet,  until  he  had  gained  a  lead  of  all  the 
others  and  was  almost  within  reach  of  the  mule. 
Another  moment  and  he  would  have  that  trail 
ing  lariat  in  his  hand. 

Glen,  too,  was  kicking  the  sides  of  his  ungain 
ly  steed,  and  yelling  at  him  in  a  perfect  frenzy 
of  excitement.  He  saw  the  stage  ranch,  the 
winding  wagon  trail,  and  the  shining  river  be 
yond  the  instant  he  was  borne  over  the  crest  of 
the  ridge,  and  knew  what  they  meant  for  him. 
To  reach  that  little  clump  of  buildings  first, 
meant  life,  liberty,  and  restoration  to  his  friends. 
He  must  do  it,  and  he  fully  believed  he  could.  He 
leaned  as  far  as  possible  over  the  mule's  neck,  and 
shouted  encouraging  words  into  his  ears.  What 
wonderful  speed  the  long-legged  animal  was  show 
ing  !  Who  would  have  thought  it  was  in  him  ? 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  137 

"Well  done,  mule!"  yelled  Glen.  "A  few 
more  seconds  and  we'll  be  there!  They  can't 
catch  us  now !" 

Then  came  a  burst  of  flame  from  the  earth  in 
front  of  him.  The  white  mule  gave  a  convulsive 
bound  and  fell  dead  in  his  tracks,  while  poor 
Glen  was  flung  far  over  his  head  to  the  ground, 
which  he  struck  so  heavily  as  to  partially  stun 
him. 

Without  checking  the  speed  of  their  ponies  in 
the  least,  two  stalwart  warriors  bent  over,  and, 
seizing  the  boy  by  the  arms,  raised  him  between 
them  as  they  swept  past.  A  moment  later  the 
entire  band,  minus  only  their  white  mule,  had 
again  reached  their  place  of  concealment,  and 
poor  Glen,  breathless,  bruised,  and  heart-broken 
with  disappointment,  was  more  of  a  prisoner 
than  ever.  Besides  this,  Wolf-Tongue,  the  only 
one  amid  all  those  stem-featured  warriors  who 
had  shown  the  least  particle  of  pity  for  him,  was 
wounded — a  rifle-ball  having  passed  through  the 
calf  of  one  of  his  legs. 

This  sudden  derangement  of  his  plans  caused 
the  leader  of  the  war-party  to  abandon  them  al 
together,  and  decide  upon  a  new  one.  It  would 
be  useless  to  attempt  to  surprise  the  stage  and 
station  now.  Besides,  it  might  be  just  as  well  to 
leave  the  trail  in  peace  for  a  few  days,  in  order 


138  Campmates. 

that  the  large  party  of  white  men,  of  whom  the 
scouts  had  just  brought  information,  might  come 
on  with  less  caution  than  they  would  use  if  con 
stantly  alarmed.  He  would  send  runners  to  the 
villages  of  the  Kiowas,  Arrapahoes,  and  Coman- 
ches,  and  tell  them  of  the  rich  prize  awaiting 
their  combined  action.  In  the  meantime  he 
would  return  to  his  own  village  and  raise  a  war- 
party  that,  in  point  of  numbers  and  equipment, 
should  be  a  credit  to  the  great  Cheyenne  nation. 

So  the  runners  were  despatched,  and  the  rest 
of  the  party  set  out  in  a  northwesterly  direction 
towards  their  distant  villages  on  the  American 
Fork. 

Shortly  before  the  Indians  halted  for  the  night, 
even  Glen  almost  forgot  his  heartache  and  pain 
ful  weariness  of  body  in  the  excitement  of  seeing 
his  first  buffalo,  and  witnessing  an  Indian  buffalo- 
hunt  on  a  small  scale.  It  was  just  at  sunset, 
when  the  scout,  who  rode  ahead,  signalled,  from 
the  top  of  an  elevation,  by  waving  his  blanket  in 
a  peculiar  manner,  that  he  had  discovered  buf 
falo. 

Obeying  a  command  from  their  leader,  half  a 
dozen  warriors  at  once  dashed  ahead  of  the  party ; 
and,  joining  the  scout,  disappeared  over  the  ridge. 
As  the  others  gained  the  summit,they  saw  that  the 
plain  beyond  it  was  covered  with  a  vast  herd  of 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  139 

buffalo,  quietly  feeding,  singly  or  in  groups,  and 
spreading  over  the  country  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach.  There  were  thousands  of  them,  and  Glen 
was  amazed  at  the  wonderful  sight. 

Those  nearest  to  the  advancing  Indians  had 
already  taken  the  alarm,  and  in  less  than  a  min 
ute  more  the  whole  vast  mass  was  in  motion, 
with  loud  bellowings  and  a  lumbering  gallop, 
that,  shaking  the  earth,  sounded  like  the  rush 
and  roar  of  mighty  waters.  The  fleet  war-ponies 
speedily  bore  the  hunters  into  the  thick  of  the 
flying  mass,  so  that  for  a  few  seconds  they  were 
swallowed  up  and  lost  to  view  in  it.  Then  they 
reappeared  surrounding,  and  driving  before  them, 
a  fat  young  cow,  that  they  had  cut  out  from  the 
rest  of  the  herd.  They  did  not  use  their  rifles, 
as  the  reports  might  have  attracted  undesirable 
attention  to  their  presence.  From  their  power 
ful  bows  arrow  after  arrow  was  buried  in  the 
body  of  the  selected  victim,  some  of  them  even 
passing  completely  through  it,  until  at  length 
the  animal  fell,  and  the  chase  was  ended. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

BUFFALO  AND  THEIR  USES. 

IF  the  Cheyennes  had  been  on  a  regular  hunt 
they  would  have  killed  scores  of  the  mighty 
beasts  before  desisting  from  their  bloody  work ; 
but  buffalo  were  too  valuable  to  the  Plains  In 
dian  to  be  wasted,  or  killed  for  mere  sport.  In 
fact,  their  very  existence,  at  that  time,  depended 
upon  these  animals.  Not  only  did  their  flesh 
form  the  chief  and  almost  the  sole  article  of  In 
dian  food,  but  with  the  skins  they  covered  their 
lodges,  and  made  boats,  ropes,  lariats,  trunks,  or 
par  fleche  sacks,  saddles,  shields,  frames  for  war 
bonnets,  gloves,  moccasins,  leggings,  shirts,  gun- 
covers,  whips,  quivers,  knife  -  scabbards,  cradles, 
saddle-bags  and  blankets,  beds,  bridles,  boots, 
glue,  and  a  score  of  other  necessary  articles. 

From  the  hair  they  made  ropes  and  pillows ; 
while  the  horns  provided  them  with  spoons,  cups, 
dishes,  powder-flasks,  arrow-heads,  and  even  bows. 
Buffalo  sinews  gave  the  Indians  thread  and  twine 
for  innumerable  purposes ;  while  certain  of  the 
bones  were  fashioned  into  axes,  knives,  arrow- 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  11>1 

points,  and  implements  for  scraping  the  hides  or 
dressing  robes.  The  ribs  were  formed  into  small 
dog  sledges,  and  the  teeth  into  necklaces  and 
rattles.  Buffalo  chips  were  a  most  important 
article  of  fuel  on  the  almost  treeless  plains,  and 
this  is  only  a  partial  list  of  the  useful  articles 
furnished  to  the  Indians  by  this  animal.  At  that 
time  buffalo  roamed,  in  countless  thousands,  from 
the  Missouri  River  to  the  Kocky  Mountains,  and 
from  Mexico  up  into  British  America.  Since  then 
they  have  been  ruthlessly  slaughtered  and  ex 
terminated  by  skin-butchers,  emigrants,  and  an 
army  of  so-called  sportsmen  from  all  parts  of  the 
world. 

While  the  hunters  were  cutting  up  the  cow 
they  had  killed,  the  rest  of  the  party  went  into 
camp  on  the  bank  of  the  stream,  near  which  the 
vast  herd  had  been  feeding.  Here  Wolf -Tongue's 
wound,  that  had  only  been  rudely  bandaged  to 
check  the  flow  of  blood,  was  carefully  dressed 
and  attended  to. 

There  was  no  lack  of  food  in  the  camp  that 
evening,  and  the  warriors  were  evidently  deter 
mined  to  make  up  for  their  days  of  hard  riding 
and  fighting  on  scanty  rations,  by  indulging  in  a 
regular  feast. 

Glen  was  disgusted  to  see  the  liver  and  kid 
neys  of  the  buffalo  eaten  raw,  as  was  also  a 


11$  Campmates. 

quantity  of  the  meat  while  it  was  yet  warm. 
Still  there  was  plenty  of  cooked  meat  for  those 
who  preferred  it.  Over  small  fires,  carefully 
screened  by  robes  and  blankets,  so  that  their 
light  should  not  attract  attention,  ribs  were 
roasted  and  choice  bits  were  broiled.  Even  the 
prisoner  was  unbound  and  allowed  to  cut  and 
broil  for  himself  until  he  could  eat  no  more. 

Wolf -Tongue's  wounded  leg  was  smeared  with 
melted  tallow ;  and,  though  it  was  so  lame  and 
stiff  that  he  could  not  use  it,  his  appetite  was  in 
no  wise  impaired  by  his  wound,  nor  did  it  dampen 
his  high  spirits  in  the  least.  It  rather  added  to 
them ;  for,  as  he  ate  buffalo  meat  raw  or  cooked, 
as  it  was  handed  to  him,  at  the  same  time  laugh 
ing  and  chatting  with  those  of  the  younger  war 
riors  who  were  nearest  his  own  age,  he  felt  that 
an  honorable  wound  had  been  the  only  thing 
needed  to  crown  the  glories  of  this,  his  first  war 
path.  Now  he  would  indeed  be  greeted  as  a  hero 
upon  his  return  to  the  village.  He  felt  more  as 
sured  than  ever  that  he  would  be  allowed  to  keep 
the  fine  name  of  "  Wolf -Tongue."  Perhaps,  but 
it  was  only  just  within  the  range  of  possibility, 
the  head  men  might  commemorate  at  once  his 
success  as  a  scout,  and  the  fact  that  he  had  re 
ceived  a  wound  in  battle,  by  conferring  upon 
him  the  distinguished  name  of  "  Lame  Wolf." 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  143 

Such  things  had  been  known.  Why  might  they 
not  happen  to  him  ? 

When  the  feasting  was  ended,  and  the  entire 
band  began  to  feel  that  to  sleep  would  be  far 
better  than  to  eat  any  more,  they  extinguished 
their  fires  and  moved  noiselessly  away,  a  hundred 
yards  or  so,  from  the  place  where  they  had  been. 
Here  in  the  tall  grass,  at  the  foot  of  the  cotton- 
wood-trees,  or  in  red  willow  thickets,  the  tired  war 
riors  laid  down,  each  man  where  he  happened  to 
be  when  he  thought  he  had  gone  far  enough  for 
safety.  Each  drew  his  blanket  over  his  head, 
and  also  over  the  rifle  that  was  his  inseparable 
bedfellow.  The  ponies  had  already  been  securely 
fastened,  so  that  they  could  be  had  when  wanted, 
and  now  they  were  either  lying  down  or  stand 
ing  motionless  with  drooping  heads.  The  camp 
was  as  secure  as  an  Indian  camp  ever  is,  where 
every  precaution  is  taken  to  guard  against  sur 
prise,  except  the  simple  one  of  keeping  awake. 

Wolf -Tongue,  who  was  unable  to  touch  his 
foot  to  the  ground,  was  carried  to  his  sleeping- 
place  with  his  arms  about  the  necks  of  two  of 
his  stalwart  friends.  Now,  with  Glen's  rifle 
clasped  tightly  to  him,  and  with  his  head  com 
pletely  enveloped  in  a  blanket,  he  was  fast  for 
getting  his  pain  in  sleep. 

Poor  Glen  was  forced  to  lie  without  any  blanket, 


144  Campmates. 

either  over  or  under  him,  with  his  wrists  bound 
together,  and  with  one  of  his  arms  fastened,  by  a 
short  cord,  to  an  arm  of  one  of  the  scouts  who 
had  captured  him.  The  latter  fell  asleep  almost 
instantly,  as  was  proved  by  his  breathing ;  but 
it  was  impossible  for  the  prisoner,  weary  as  he 
was,  to  do  so.  His  mind  was  too  busily  engaged 
in  revolving  possible  means  of  escape.  For  a 
long  time  he  lay  with  wide-open  eyes,  dismissing 
one  project  after  another  as  they  presented  them 
selves.  Finally  he  decided  that,  unless  he  could 
first  free  his  hands  and  then  release  his  arm  from 
the  cord  that  bound  him  to  the  scout,  he  could  do 
nothing. 

To  accomplish  the  first  of  these  objects,  he  be 
gan  to  gnaw,  very  softly,  at  the  raw-hide  thong  by 
which  his  wrists  were  secured.  How  tough  and 
hard  it  was.  How  his  jaws  ached  after  he  had 
worked  for  an  hour  or  more,  without  accomplish 
ing  his  purpose.  Still  he  could  feel  that  his  efforts 
were  not  altogether  fruitless.  He  knew  that  he 
could  succeed  if  he  were  only  given  time  enough. 

He  was  obliged  to  take  several  rests,  and  his 
work  was  often  interrupted  by  hearing  some 
wakeful  Indian  get  up  and  walk  about.  Twice 
the  scout  wakened,  and  pulled  at  the  cord  fast 
ened  to  his  prisoner's  arm  to  assure  himself  that 
he  was  still  there. 


A  /Story  of  the  Plains.  145 

At  length  the  task  was  concluded,  the  hate 
ful  thong  was  bitten  in  two,  and  Glen's  hands 
were  free.  They  were  cold,  numb,  and  devoid 
of  feeling;  but  after  a  while  their  circulation 
was  gradually  restored,  and  the  boy  began  to 
work  at  the  knot  that  secured  the  cord  about  his 
arm.  It  was  a  hard  one  to  untie,  but  in  this,  too, 
he  finally  succeeded.  Just  as  it  loosened  beneath 
Glen's  fingers,  the  scout  woke  and  gave  the  cord 
a  pull.  Fortunately  the  boy  still  held  it,  and 
the  other  was  satisfied  that  his  prisoner  was  still 
beside  him.  Glen  hardly  dared  breathe  until  he 
felt  certain  that  the  Indian  again  slept.  Then  he 
fastened  the  cord  to  a  bit  of  willow,  that  grew 
within  reach,  in  order  that  there  might  be  some 
resistance  if  the  scout  should  pull  at  it  again,  and 
cautiously  rose  to  his  feet. 

Which  way  should  he  go?  How  should  he 
avoid  stepping  on  some  recumbent  form  if  he 
moved  at  all  ?  For  a  moment  he  stood  irresolute. 
Well,  whatever  he  did  he  must  do  quickly,  for 
the  short  summer  night  was  far  advanced.  He 
had  not  a  moment  to  lose.  If  he  only  dared  take 
a  pony !  If  he  could  drive  them  all  off  and  leave 
his  pursuers  without  a  horse  on  which  to  follow 
him !  It  was  a  thought  worthy  of  a  Cheyenne 
scout,  and  Glen  realized  in  a  moment  that,  haz 
ardous  as  the  undertaking  would  be,  it  offered 


Campmates. 

the  only  means  of  ultimate  escape.  He  thought 
he  knew  where  the  horses  were,  and  began  to 
move  with  the  utmost  caution,  feeling  his  way 
inch  by  inch,  in  that  direction. 

Twice  he  just  discovered  a  motionless  human 
form  in  time  to  avoid  stumbling  over  it,  and  each 
time  his  heart  seemed  to  leap  into  his  mouth  with 
the  narrowness  of  his  escape.  Several  times,  too, 
he  changed  his  course  in  order  to  avoid  some 
real  or  fancied  obstacle,  until  at  length  he  was 
completely  bewildered,  and  obliged  to  confess 
that  he  had  no  idea  of  what  direction  he  was 
taking.  Still  he  kept  on,  trembling  with  ner 
vousness,  until  at  length  he  felt  certain  that  he 
must  be  at  least  well  outside  the  circle  of  sleep 
ing  Indians,  if  not  at  a  considerable  distance 
from  them.  He  began  to  move  more  rapidly, 
when  suddenly  a  human  figure  rose  up  before 
him,  so  close  that  he  could  not  avoid  it.  He 
sprang  at  it  with  a  blind  fury,  hoping  to  over 
throw  it,  and  still  effect  his  escape.  Then  there 
came  a  wild  cry,  a  deafening  report,  and  Glen 
found  himself  engaged  in  a  furious  struggle  with 
an  unknown  antagonist. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

GLEN'S   ESCAPE   FROM   THE   INDIANS. 

As  Glen  struggled  desperately,  but  well-nigh 
hopelessly,  with  the  assailant  who  had  risen  so 
unexpectedly  to  bar  his  escape,  there  came  a 
crashing  volley  of  shots,  a  loud  cheer,  and  a  rush 
of  trampling  feet  through  the  willows  and  tan 
gled  undergrowth.  The  boy  only  dimly  wondered 
at  these  sounds  as  he  was  flung  to  the  ground, 
where  he  lay  breathless,  with  his  arms  pinned 
tightly  to  the  earth,  and  expecting  that  each  in 
stant  would  be  his  last.  Then  he  became  strange 
ly  conscious  that  his  antagonist  was  talking  in  a 
language  that  he  understood,  and  was  saying, 

"Yez  would,  would  ye?  An'  yez  tho't  ye 
could  wrastle  wid  Terence  O'Boyle?  Ye  mur- 
therin'  rid  villin !  Bad  cess  to  it !  but  oi'll  tache 
ye !  Phat's  that  ye  say  ?  Ye're  a  white  man  ? 
Oh,  no,  me  omadhoon !  yez  can't  fool  me  into 
lettin'  ye  up  that  way !" 

"  But  I  am  white !"  cried  Glen,  half  choked 
though  he  was.  "  Let  me  up,  and  I'll  prove  it 
to  you.  Can't  you  understand  English  ?" 


H.8  Ccwrvpmates. 

Very  slowly  and  reluctantly  the  astonished 
Irishman  allowed  himself  to  become  convinced 
that  the  assailant  he  had  failed  to  shoot,  but 
whom  he  had  overcome  after  a  violent  struggle, 
was  not  an  Indian.  It  was  some  minutes  before 
he  would  permit  Glen  to  rise  from  his  uncom 
fortable  position,  and  even  then  he  held  him  fast, 
declaring  that  nothing  short  of  an  order  from 
the  captain  himself  would  induce  him  to  release 
a  prisoner. 

The  explanation  of  this  sudden  change  in  our 
hero's  fortunes  and  prospects  is  that,  while  the 
Chevennes  were  engaged  in  their  buffalo -hunt 

€/  O  O 

the  evening  before,  they  had  been  discovered  by 
a  Pawnee  scout.  He  was  attached  to  a  com 
pany  of  cavalry  who  were  on  their  way  back  to 
Fort  Hayes,  on  the  Smoky  Hill,  from  an  expe 
dition  against  the  Arrapahoes.  The  captain  of 
this  company  had  determined  to  surprise  the  In 
dians  thus  unexpectedly  thrown  in  his  way,  at 
daybreak,  and  had  made  his  arrangements  ac 
cordingly.  Their  movements  had  been  carefully 
noted  by  the  scouts,  and,  having  made  a  start 
from  their  own  camp  at  three  o'clock  that  morn 
ing,  the  troops  were  cautiously  surrounding  the 
place  where  they  supposed  their  sleeping  foes 
to  be. 

The  attack  would  undoubtedly  have  proved 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

successful,  and  the  Cheyennes  would  have  sprung 
from  their  grassy  couches  only  to  fall  beneath 
the  fire  from  the  cavalry  carbines,  had  not  Glen 
Eddy  run  into  trooper  Terence  O'Boyle  and  been 
mistaken  for  an  Indian  by  that  honest  fellow. 
Upon  the  alarm  being  thus  prematurely  given, 
the  soldiers  fired  a  volley  and  charged  the  Chey 
enne  camp,  only  to  find  it  deserted.  With  one 
exception,  the  Indians  had  made  good  their  es 
cape,  and  it  was  never  known  whether  any  of 
them  were  even  wounded  by  the  volley  that  gave 
them  such  a  rude  awakening.  The  one  who  failed 
to  escape  was  the  young  scout  who  hoped  to  be 
known  as  "  Wolf -Tongue,"  and  who,  on  account 
of  his  wound,  was  unable  to  fly  with  the  rest. 

He  managed  to  conceal  himself  in  a  thicket 
until  daylight.  Then  he  was  discovered  by  one 
of  the  Pawnee  scouts,  who  dragged  him  out,  and 
would  have  put  him  to  death  but  for  the  inter 
ference  of  Glen  Eddy,  who  was  just  then  led  to 
the  spot  by  his  Irish  captor. 

An  hour  later  Glen  was  enjoying  the  happiest 
breakfast  in  his  life,  in  company  with  Captain 
Garrett  Winn,  U.S.A.,  who  was  listening  with 
absorbed  interest  to  the  boy's  account  of  his  re 
cent  thrilling  experiences. 

"  Well,  my  lad,"  said  the  captain,  when  Glen 
had  finished  his  story,  "  I  consider  your  several 


150  Canypmates. 

escapes  from  being  killed,  when  first  captured, 
from  the  bullets  of  those  fellows  at  the  stage 
ranch,  from  the  Indians,  and,  finally,  from  being 
killed  by  that  wild  Irishman,  as  being  little  short 
of  miraculous." 

Soon  afterwards  the  trumpet  sounded  "  Boots 
and  Saddles,"  and  Glen,  mounted  on  a  handsome 
bay  mare — which,  with  several  other  ponies,  had 
been  left  behind  by  the  Indians  in  their  hurried 
flight — trotted  happily  away  with  his  new  friends 
in  the  direction  of  Fort  Hayes.  In  his  hand  he 
grasped  his  own  rifle,  which  was  recovered  when 
Wolf-Tongue  was  captured,  and  behind  him, 
mounted  on  a  pony  led  by  one  of  the  troopers, 
rode  that  wounded  and  crest-fallen  young  Indian 
himself. 

The  future  looked  very  black  to  AVolf-Tongue 
just  now ;  for,  totally  ignorant  of  the  ways  of 
white  men,  he  expected  nothing  less  than  death 
as  soon  as  he  should  reach  the  fort.  He  realized 
that  Glen  had  saved  him  from  the  knife  of  the 
Pawnee  scout,  and  wondered  if  the  white  boy 
would  interfere  in  his  behalf  with  the  warriors 
of  his  own  race,  or  if  they  would  listen  to  him 
in  case  he  did.  He  wished  he  knew  just  a  little 
of  the  white  man's  language,  that  he  might  dis 
cover  what  those  soldiers  on  each  side  of  him 
were  talking  about.  Perhaps  they  were  even 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  151 

discussing  him  and  his  fate.  But  he  only  knew 
one  word  of  English,  and  now  he  began  to  think 
he  did  not  understand  the  meaning  of  that ;  for, 
though  he  heard  the  soldiers  say  "  how  "  several 
times  in  the  course  of  their  conversation,  they 
did  not  seem  to  use  it  at  all  as  he  would.  So  the 
Indian  lad  rode  along  unhappily  enough;  but, 
though  his  thoughts  were  very  busy,  no  trace  of 
them  was  allowed  to  exhibit  itself  in  his  impassive 
face. 

In  the  meantime  he  was  the  subject  of  a  con 
versation  between  Glen  and  Captain  Winn,  as 
they  rode  side  by  side.  The  former  had  a  very 
kindly  feeling  towards  the  young  Indian,  who 
had  tried  to  be  kind  to  him  when  their  present 
positions  were  reversed,  and  now  he  wanted  in 
some  way  to  return  this  kindness  if  possible. 

"What  will  be  done  with  him  do  you  think, 
sir  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  captain, 
carelessly.  "  I  suppose  he  will  be  kept  as  a  pris 
oner  at  some  one  of  the  forts  until  we  have 
whipped  his  tribe  and  put  it  on  a  reservation, 
and  then  he  will  be  sent  back  to  it." 

"  But  what  will  become  of  him  then  ?"  persist 
ed  the  boy. 

"  Oh,  he  will  grow  up  to  be  one  of  the  regular 
reservation  beggars,  living  on  government  char- 


162  Campmates. 

ity,  until  he  finally  drinks  himself  to  death  or 
gets  killed  in  some  quarrel.  That's  the  way  with 
most  of  them  on  the  reservations.  You  see  they 
haven't  anything  else  to  do,  and  so  they  drink 
and  gamble,  and  kill  each  other  just  to  pass  away 
the  time." 

"  Don't  you  suppose  he  could  learn  to  live  like 
white  folks  if  he  had  the  chance  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  he  could.  In  fact,  I  know  he 
could,  if  he  had  the  chance ;  for  these  Indian  boys 
are  about  as  bright  as  they  make  'em.  But  I 
don't  know  where  he'll  get  the  chance.  The 
government  would  rather  pay  a  thousand  dol 
lars  to  keep  him  on  a  reservation,  or  even  to  kill 
him,  than  a  hundred  to  give  him  an  education, 
and  I  don't  know  of  anybody  else,  that  is  able  to 
do  anything,  who  will  take  an  interest  in  him." 

There  the  conversation  ended ;  for,  after  riding 
some  time  in  silence  and  trying  to  think  of  a  so 
lution  of  this  perplexing  Indian  problem,  Glen 
all  at  once  found  himself  nodding  so  that  he  al 
most  fell  off  his  horse.  He  was  so  thoroughly 
wearied  and  sleepy  that  it  did  not  seem  as  though 
he  could  hold  his  eyes  open  another  minute. 

Noticing  his  condition,  the  captain  said,  kindly, 

"  You  look  just  about  used  up,  young  man ; 
and  no  wonder,  after  what  you've  gone  through. 
The  best  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  hand  your 


A  /Story  of  the  Plains.  163 

pony  over  to  one  of  the  men,  crawl  into  the 
wagon  back  there,  and  take  a  nap." 

Glen  thought  this  such  good  advice  that  he 
immediately  followed  it.  Two  minutes  later  he 
was  lying,  in  what  looked  like  a  most  uncomfort 
able  position,  on  top  of  a  pile  of  baggage  in  the 
only  wagon  that  accompanied  the  troops,  more 
soundly  asleep  than  he  had  ever  been  before  in 
all  his  life.  He  did  not  even  know  when  the 
wagon  reached  the  fort,  a  few  hours  later,  nor 
did  he  realize  what  was  happening  when  he  was 
lifted  from  it  and  led  by  the  captain  into  his  own 
quarters.  There  the  boy  was  allowed  to  tumble 
down  on  a  pile  of  robes  and  blankets,  and  told  to 
have  his  sleep  out. 

!N"ot  until  the  rising  sun  streamed  full  in  his 
face  the  next  morning  did  that  sleep  come  to  an 
end.  Then  he  awoke  so  hungry  that  he  felt  as 
though  it  would  take  a  whole  buffalo  to  satisfy 
his  appetite,  and  so  bewildered  by  his  surround 
ings  that,  for  some  minutes,  he  could  not  recall 
what  had  happened.  He  had  no  idea  of  where 
he  was,  for  he  could  remember  nothing  since  the 
act  of  crawling  into  the  wagon  and  finding  a 
bed  on  its  load  of  baggage. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

A  PRESENT   THAT  WOULD   PLEASE   ANY   BOY. 

THROUGH  the  open  window,  by  which  the  sun 
light  was  streaming  in,  Glen  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  line  of  cottonwood-trees,  which,  as  he  had 
long  ago  learned,  denoted  the  presence  of  a 
stream  in  that  country.  To  a  boy  who  dearly 
loved  to  bathe,  and  had  not  washed  for  two  whole 
days,  nothing  could  be  more  tempting.  iN"or  was 
Glen  long  in  jumping  from  the  window,  run 
ning  down  to  the  cottonwoods,  throwing  off  his 
clothes,  and  plunging  headforemost  into  the  cool 
waters. 

With  that  delicious  bath  disappeared  every 
trace  of  his  weariness,  his  aches,  and  everything 
else  that  remained  to  remind  him  of  his  recent 
trials,  except  his  hunger.  When  he  was  at  length 
ready  to  go  in  search  of  something  with  which 
to  appease  that,  he  walked  slowly  back  towards 
the  house  in  which  he  had  slept.  He  now  no 
ticed  that  it  was  built  of  logs,  and  was  the  last 
one  in  a  row  of  half  a  dozen  just  like  it.  He 
also  heard  bugle  calls,  saw  soldiers  in  blue  uni- 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  155 

forms  hurrying  in  every  direction,  and  wisely 
concluded  that,  in  some  way,  he  must  have  been 
brought  to  Fort  Hayes. 

As  he  stood  irresolute  near  the  house,  not 
knowing  which  way  to  go  or  what  to  do,  a  door 
opened  and  a  little  girl,  followed  by  a  lady,  came 
out.  The  child  stopped  and  looked  at  the  boy 
for  a  moment.  Then  running  back  to  her  moth 
er,  she  exclaimed, 

"  Look  mamma !  look !  It's  the  very  same  one 
we  knew  on  the  cars !" 

Glen  had  recognized  her  at  once  as  his  little 
acquaintance  of  the  railroad  between  St.  Louis 
and  Kansas  City,  and  now  the  lady  recognized 
him  as  the  boy  who  had  run  the  locomotive  so 
splendidly  that  terrible  night,  and  had  then  so 
mysteriously  disappeared. 

It  was  truly  a  very  happy  party  that  gath 
ered  about  Captain  "Winn's  hospitable  breakfast- 
table  that  morning.  They  had  so  much  to  talk 
about,  and  so  many  questions  to  ask,  and  so 
many  experiences  to  relate,  and  Nettie  so  bub 
bled  over  with  delight  at  again  finding  her  play 
fellow,  that  the  meal  was  prolonged  for  more 
than  an  hour  beyond  its  usual  limits. 

After  breakfast  Glen  asked  if  he  might  go  and 
see  the  prisoner,  to  which  the  captain  replied, 
"Certainly  you  may."  As  they  walked  across 


156  Campmafas. 

the  parade-ground  in  the  direction  of  the  guard 
house,  Glen  was  introduced  to  several  officers, 
who  seemed  to  take  a  great  interest  in  him,  and 
shook  hands  so  cordially,  and  congratulated  him 
so  heartily  on  his  escape  from  the  Cheyennes, 
that  the  boy  began  to  think  his  rough  experi 
ence  was  not  without  its  compensations  after  all. 

In  the  guard-house  they  found  the  young  In 
dian  peering  disconsolately  out  between  the 
gratings  of  his  cell  window,  and  looking  very 
forlorn  indeed.  He  gazed  sullenly  at  the  visit 
ors,  and  wondered  why  they  should  come  there 
to  stare  at  him ;  but  when  Glen  stepped  up  to 
him  with  outstretched  hand,  and  said  "How?" 
the  boy's  face  brightened  at  once.  He  took  the 
proffered  hand,  and  answered  "  How "  with  an 
evident  air  of  pleasure,  for  he  could  comprehend 
the  other's  sympathetic  expression,  if  he  could 
not  understand  his  language.  Pointing  to  him 
self,  the  white  boy  said,  "  Glen,"  which  the  other 
repeated  as  though  he  thoroughly  understood 
what  was  meant.  Then  Glen  pointed  to  him, 
with  an  inquiring  look,  as  much  as  to  ask,  "  What 
is  your  name  ?" 

The  boy  understood ;  but  hesitated  a  moment 
before  drawing  himself  up  proudly  and  answering 
in  his  own  tongue ;  but  the  name  was  so  long 
and  hard  to  say  that  Glen  could  not  repeat  it. 


A  Story  of  the  Plain*.  157 

"  I  wish  I  could  understand  what  he  says,  for 
I  should  so  like  to  have  a  talk  with  him,"  said 
Glen. 

"  There  is  an  interpreter  who  speaks  Chey 
enne  somewhere  about  the  place,"  answered 
Captain  Winn,  "  and,  if  you  like,  I  will  send  for 
him." 

When  the  interpreter  came,  Glen  found  out 
that  what  the  boy  had  said  in  Cheyenne  was 
that  his  name  was  "  Lame  "Wolf ;"  but  when  the 
young  Indian  tried  to  repeat  it  in  English,  after 
Glen,  he  pronounced  it  "Lem  Wolf,"  which  is 
what  he  was  called  from  that  day. 

After  they  had  held  quite  a  conversation,  that 
greatly  increased  Glen's  interest  in  the  boy,  he 
and  the  captain  took  their  departure,  the  former 
promising  to  come  again  very  soon. 

Then  Captain  Winn  led  Glen  down  to  the  corral, 
in  which  were  a  number  of  horses,  ponies,  and 
mules,  and,  pointing  to  one  of  them,  asked  the 
boy  if  he  recognized  it. 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  answered  Glen.  "  It's  the 
one  I  rode  yesterday." 

"  And  the  one  I  hope  you  will  ride  for  many 
days  to  come,"  said  the  captain  with  a  smile; 
"  for  I  want  you  to  accept  that  pony  as  a  present 
from  my  little  girl." 

"  Really  ?"  cried  the  delighted  boy ;  "  do  you 


158  Campmates. 

really  mean  that  I  am  to  have  it  for  my  very 
own"?" 

"  I  really  do,"  laughed  the  captain,  "  and,"  he 
continued  more  soberly,  "  I  wish  I  could  offer 
you  something  ten  times  more  valuable,  as  a 
slight  memento  of  the  service  you  rendered  those 
so  dear  to  me  not  long  ago." 

"  You  couldn't  give  me  anything  I  should 
value  more,"  exclaimed  Glen,  "unless — "  Here 
he  hesitated,  and  his  face  flushed  slightly. 

"  Unless  what  ?"  asked  Captain  Winn. 

"  Unless  you  could  give  me  that  Indian 
boy." 

"  "What  on  earth  would  you  do  with  him  ?" 
cried  the  captain,  his  eyes  opening  wide  with 
surprise  at  such  an  unheard-of  request. 

Then  Glen  unfolded  a  plan  that  had  formed 
itself  in  his  mind  within  a  few  minutes ;  and, 
when  he  had  finished,  the  captain's  look  of  sur 
prise  still  remained  on  his  face,  but  he  said,  re 
flectively  : 

"Well,  I  don't  know  but  what  it  might  be 
done,  and  if  you  succeed  in  carrying  out  your 
part  of  the  scheme,  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  with 
the  rest  of  it." 

This  matter  being  disposed  of,  Glen  asked  if 
he  might  try  his  pony. 

"But  you  tried  her  yesterday,"  laughed  the 


A  Stvry  of  the  Plains.  159 

captain,  who  enjoyed  the  boyishness  of  this  boy 
as  much  as  he  admired  his  manliness. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  but  she  wasn't  mine  then,  and  you 
know  everything,  even  a  horse,  is  very  different 
when  it  is  your  own." 

"  So  it  is,  and  you  may  try  her  to  your  heart's 
content,  only  don't  ride  far  from  the  post  unless 
you  wish  for  a  repetition  of  your  recent  expe 
rience." 

With  this  the  captain  beckoned  to  a  soldier, 
who  stood  near  by,  and  ordered  him  to  saddle 
the  bay  mare,  and  to  tell  the  stable-sergeant  that 
she  belonged  to  this  young  gentleman,  who  was 
to  take  her  whenever  he  pleased.  He  also  told 
Glen  that  the  whole  outfit  of  saddle,  bridle,  and 
picket  rope,  then  being  placed  on  the  mare,  were 
included  in  his  present. 

The  mare  was  so  well  fed,  and  so  thoroughly 
rested,  that  she  was  in  high  spirits  ;  and,  the  mo 
ment  she  found  Glen  on  her  back,  tried  her  very 
best  to  throw  him  off.  She  reared,  and  bucked, 
and  plunged,  and  sprang  sideways,  and  kicked 
up  her  heels,  to  the  great  delight  of  a  number  of 
soldiers  who  were  witnesses  of  the  performance ; 
but  all  to  no  purpose.  Her  rider  clung  to  the 
saddle  like  a  burr,  and  all  her  efforts  to  throw 
him  were  quite  as  unsuccessful  as  those  of  Bin- 
ney  Gibbs's  mule  had  been  some  days  before. 


160  Campmates. 

When  Glen,  with  the  breath  nearly  shaken  out 
of  his  body,  but  thoroughly  master  of  the  situa 
tion,  reined  the  mare  up  beside  the  captain,  and 
asked  his  permission  to  name  her  " ^settle,"  the 
latter  readily  granted  it,  saying,  "  I  think  it  will 
be  a  most  appropriate  name ;  for  it  is  evident 
that  she  can  only  be  mastered  by  a  firm  and 
steady  hand." 

Then  the  happy  boy  rode  over  to  Captain 
Winn's  quarters,  anxious  to  display  his  new  ac 
quisition  to  the  child  after  whom  she  had  just 
been  named.  As  he  did  so  he  passed  the  guard 
house,  and  was  moved  to  pity  by  the  sight  of  a 
sad-looking  young  face  pressed  against  the  grat 
ing  of  one  of  its  windows,  and  gazing  wistfully 
at  him.  That  pony  had  belonged  to  Lame  Wolf 
but  the  day  before. 

After  an  hour's  riding  in  the  immediate  vicin 
ity  of  the  fort,  Glen  was  fully  satisfied  that  no 
horse  in  the  world  had  ever  combined  so  many 
admirable  qualities  as  this  bay  mare,  or  given  an 
owner  such  complete  cause  to  be  satisfied  with 
his  possession. 

As  he  was  about  to  return  her  to  the  corral, 
his  eye  caught  the  gleam  of  sunlight  on  a  moving 
white  object,  a  mile  or  so  distant,  along  the  wagon- 
trail  leading  to  the  east.  Watching  intently,  he 
saw  that  it  was  followed  by  another,  and  anoth- 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  161 

er,  until  the  wagons  of  a  long  train  were  in  plain 
sight,  winding  slowly  along  the  road  towards  the 
fort.  When  he  was  certain  that  he  could  not  be 
mistaken,  the  boy  uttered  a  joyous  shout,  clapped 
spurs  to  Nettle,  and  dashed  away  to  meet  them. 

A  group  of  mounted  men  rode  ahead  of  the 
train,  and  they  gazed  wonderingly  at  the  reck 
less  rider  who  approached  them  with  such  head 
long  impetuosity.  Their  surprise  became  incred 
ulous  amazement  as  he  reined  sharply  up  within 
a  few  paces  of  them,  and,  politely  lifting  his  hat, 
disclosed  the  shaven  head  and  flushed  face  of 
the  boy  whose  mysterious  disappearance  had 
caused  them  such  sincere  grief  and  distress.  They 
had  devoted  half  a  day  to  scouring  the  country 
near  the  camp  from  which  he  had  been  lost ; 
and,  finding  plentiful  traces  of  Indians  in  the 
creek  bottom,  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that, 
in  some  way,  he  had  fallen  into  their  hands,  and 
would  never  again  be  heard  from.  Now,  to  meet 
him  here,  safe,  and  evidently  in  high  spirits,  was 
past  comprehension. 

Mr.  Hobart  was  the  first  to  ride  forward  and 
grasp  his  hand.  "Is  it  really  you,  Glen?"  he 
exclaimed,  his  voice  choked  with  feeling ;  "  and 
where,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  mysterious,  have 
you  been  ?" 

"  It  is  really  I,"  answered  the  boy,  "  and  I've 


Campmates. 

been  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the  Cheyennes, 
and  had  a  glorious  time." 

It  really  did  seem  as  though  he  had  had  a  good 
time,  now  that  it  was  all  over  with,  and  he  was 
the  owner  of  that  beautiful  mare.  Besides,  he 
could  not  fully  realize  the  nature  of  the  fate  he 
had  escaped. 

Then  the  others  crowded  about  him,  and  Gen 
eral  Lyle  himself  shook  hands  with  him,  and 
wanted  to  hear  his  story  at  once.  "While  he  was 
telling  it  as  briefly  as  possible,  the  joyful  news 
of  his  appearance  flew  back  through  the  train, 
and  the  boys  came  running  up  to  see  him,  and 
shake  hands  with  him,  and  nearly  pulled  him  off 
his  horse  in  their  eagerness  to  touch  him  and 
assure  themselves  that  he  was  really  alive. 

"  Hurrah  for  the  Baldheads !"  shouted  the  ir 
repressible  Brackett ;  "  they  don't  get  left !  not 
much!" 

Even  Binney  Gibbs  came  and  shook  hands 
with  him. 

That  evening,  after  the  camp  was  somewhat 
quieted  from  its  excitement,  and  after  Glen  had 
told  his  story  for  about  the  twentieth  time,  he 
disappeared  for  a  short  while.  When  he  returned 
he  brought  with  him  an  Indian  boy,  who  limped 
painfully,  and  seemed  very  ill  at  ease  in  the  pres 
ence  of  so  many  strange  pale-faces. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  163 

"Who's  your  friend,  Glen?" 

"  Where  are  the  rest  of  the  ten  little  Injuns  ?" 
shouted  the  fellows  as  they  crowded  about  this 
new  object  of  interest. 

When  at  length  a  partial  quiet  was  restored, 
Glen  begged  them  to  listen  to  him  for  a  few 
minutes,  as  he  had  something  to  propose  that  he 
was  sure  would  interest  them,  and  they  shouted, 

"  Fire  away,  old  man,  we  are  all  listening  1" 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

LAME   WOLF,  THE   YOUNG   CHEYENNE. 

"LOOK  here,  fellows,"  said  Glen,  as  he  stood 
•with  one  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  young  In 
dian,  and  facing  his  companions,  who,  attracted 
by  curiosity,  were  gathered  to  hear  what  he  had 
to  say.  "  This  chap  is  a  Cheyenne,  and  is  one  of 
the  three  by  whom  I  was  captured ;  but  he  was 
mighty  kind,  and  did  everything  he  could  think 
of  to  make  things  easy  for  me.  So  you  see  he  is 
my  friend,  and  now  that  he  is  in  trouble,  I  am 
bound  to  do  what  I  can  to  help  him.  His  name 
is  Lame  Wolf — "  (here  the  young  Indian  stood 
a  little  straighter,  and  his  eyes  flashed.  He  had 
succeeded  in  having  that  name  recognized  as  be 
longing  to  him,  at  any  rate),  "  and  he's  the  son 
of  a  chief,  and  the  only  English  word  he  knows 
is  ( How  ?'  Captain  "Winn  says  that  if  he  only 
had  a  chance  he'd  learn  as  quick  as  any  white 
boy,  and  I  believe  he'd  learn  a  good  deal  quicker 
than  some — "  At  this  point  Glen  became  some 
what  confused,  and  wondered  if  Binney  Gibbs 
had  told  how  he  had  been  dropped  from  his 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  165 

class.  "He  says,  I  mean  Captain  Winn  says, 
that  the  only  thing  for  him  to  do  out  here  is  to 
go  on  a  reservation  and  become  a  worthless  good- 
for-nothing,  and  get  killed.  Now  that  seems  a 
pretty  poor  sort  of  a  chance  for  a  fellow  that's 
been  as  good  a  friend  to  me  as  Lame  Wolf  has, 
and  I  want  you  to  help  me  give  him  a  better 
one. 

"  I  want  to  send  him  back  to  my  home  in  Brim- 
field,  and  let  him  live  with  my  folks  a  year  or  two, 
and  be  taught  things  the  same  as  white  boys,  and 
have  the  same  chance  they  have.  Captain  Winn 
says  he  thinks  he  can  fix  it  with  the  folks  at 
Washington  about  letting  him  go  ;  but  he  don't 
know  where  the  money  to  pay  his  expenses  is  to 
come  from.  I  didn't  tell  him,  because  I  thought 
I'd  speak  to  you  first;  but  I  was  pretty  sure  it 
would  come  from  this  very  party.  I've  only  got 
five  dollars  in  cash  myself,  but  I'll  give  that,  and 
I'll  save  all  I  can  out  of  my  pay  for  it,  too.  Now, 
what  do  you  say,  fellows  ?  Shall  Lame  Wolf  have 
a  chance  or  not  ?" 

"Yes!  yes!  of  course  he  shall!  Hurrah  for 
Lame  Wolf!  Hurrah  for  Glen's  little  Injun! 
Give  him  a  chance !  Put  me  down  for  half  a 
month's  pay!  And  me!  and  me!"  shouted  a 
dozen  voices  at  once. 

"  Billy  "  Brackett  jumped  up  on  a  box,  and,  call- 


166  Campmates. 

ing  the  meeting  to  order,  proposed  that  a  com 
mittee  of  three  be  appointed,  with  Mr.  Hobart 
as  its  chairman,  to  receive  subscriptions  to  the 
Lame  Wolf  Fund.  "  All-in-favor-say-aye-contrary- 
mind-it-is-a-vote !"  he  shouted.  Then  somebody 
else  nominated  him  and  Glen  to  be  the  other 
members,  and  they  were  elected  without  a  dis 
senting  voice. 

While  all  this  was  going  on  the  fellows  were 
crowding  about  the  young  Indian,  eager  to  shake 
hands  with  him,  and  say,  "  How !  Lame  Wolf, 
old  boy!  How!" 

All  at  once  Glen  found  that  the  boy  was  lean 
ing  heavily  on  him,  and  reproached  himself  for 
having  allowed  him  to  stand  so  long  on  his 
wounded  leg.  He  got  his  charge  back  to  the 
guard -house  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  then, 
leaving  him  to  enjoy  a  quiet  night's  rest,  hurried 
back  to  camp. 

Here  he  found  "  Billy  "  Brackett  presiding,  with 
great  dignity,  over  what  he  was  pleased  to  call 
the  "  subscription  books."  They  consisted  of  a 
single  sheet  of  paper,  fastened  with  thumb-tacks 
to  a  drawing-board  that  was  placed  on  top  of  a 
barrel  in  one  of  the  tents.  Mr.  Hobart,  who  had 
consented  to  serve  on  the  committee,  was  also  in 
the  tent,  and  to  him  were  being  handed  the  cash 
contributions  to  the  Fund. 


A  Story  of  the  Plcrnia.  167 

Glen  put  his  name  down  for  five  dollars  a 
month,  to  be  paid  as  long  as  he  should  remain 
a  member  of  the  present  expedition.  Then  he 
started  for  his  own  tent  to  get  the  five  dollars  in 
cash  that  he  had  promised,  out  of  his  valise. 

As  he  was  hurrying  back  with  it  he  was  stopped 
by  Binney  Gibbs,  who  thrust  a  bit  of  paper  into 
his  hand,  saying, 

"  I  want  you  to  take  this  check  for  your  Indian, 
Glen.  Father  sent  it  to  me  to  buy  a  horse  with, 
but  I  guess  a  mule  is  good  enough  for  me,  and 
so  the  Indian  chap  can  have  it  as  well  as  not. 
You  needn't  say  anything  about  it." 

With  this,  Binney,  who  had  spoken  in  a  con 
fused  manner,  hurried  away  without  giving  Glen 
a  chance  to  thank  him. 

What  had  come  over  the  boy?  Glen  had 
never  known  him  to  do  a  generous  thing  before. 
He  could  not  understand  it.  When  he  reached 
the  tent,  and  examined  the  check,  his  amaze 
ment  was  so  great  that  he  gave  a  long  whistle. 

"  What  is  it,  Glen  ?  Give  us  a  chance  to  whis 
tle  too,"  shouted  "  Billy  "  Brackett.  "  Our  natural 
curiosity  needs  to  be  checked  as  well  as  yours." 

"  Binney  Gibbs  has  contributed  a  hundred  dol 
lars,"  said  Glen,  slowly,  as  though  he  could  not 
quite  believe  his.  own  words  to  be  true. 

"  Good  for  Grip !     Bravo  for  Binney !    Who 


168  Campmates. 

would  have  thought  it?  He's  a  trump,  after 
all!"  shouted  "Billy"  Brackett  and  the  others 
who  heard  this  bit  of  news. 

Far  beyond  the  tent,  these  shouts  reached  the 
ears  of  a  solitary  figure  that  stood  motionless 
and  almost  invisible  in  the  night  shadows.  They 
warmed  his  heart,  and  caused  his  cheeks  to  glow. 
It  was  a  new  sensation  to  Binney  Gibbs  to  be 
cheered  and  praised  for  an  act  of  generosity.  It 
was  a  very  pleasant  one  as  well,  and  he  wondered 
why  he  had  never  experienced  it  before. 

The  truth  is  that  this  rough  life,  in  which  every 
person  he  met  was  his  equal,  if  not  his  superior, 
was  doing  this  boy  more  good  than  any  one  had 
dared  to  predict  that  it  would.  Although  he  was 
a  prize  scholar,  and  the  son  of  a  wealthy  man, 
there  were  many  in  this  exploring -party  who 
were  far  better  scholars,  and  more  wealthy  than 
he.  Yet  even  these  were  often  outranked  in 
general  estimation  by  fellows  who  had  neither 
social  position,  money,  nor  learning.  At  first 
Binney  could  not  understand  it.  Things  were 
so  different  in  Brimfield ;  though  even  there  he 
remembered  that  he  had  not  been  as  popular 
among  the  other  boys  as  Glen  Eddy.  Even  in 
this  party,  where  Binney  had  expected  to  be  such 
a  shining  light,  the  other  Brimfield  boy  was  far 
better  liked  than  he.  For  this  Binney  had  hated 


A  Story  of  ike  Plains.  169 

Glen,  and  declared  he  would  get  even  with  him. 
Then  he  began,  furtively,  to  watch  him  in  the 
hope  of  discovering  the  secret  of  his  popularity. 
Finally  it  came  to  him,  like  a  revelation,  and  he 
realized  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  that,  in  man 
or  boy,  such  things  as  unselfishness,  honesty, 
bravery,  good-nature,  generosity,  and  cheerful 
ness,  or  any  one  of  them,  will  do  more  towards 
securing  the  regard,  liking,  and  friendship  of  his 
fellows  than  all  the  wealth  or  book-learning  in 
the  world. 

Perhaps  if  Glen  had  not  been  captured  by  the 
Cheyennes,  Binney  would  not  have  learned  this 
most  valuable  lesson  of  his  life  as  quickly  as  he 
did.  In  the  general  grief  over  his  schoolmate's 
disappearance,  he  heard  his  character  praised  for 
one  or  another  lovable  trait,  until  at  length  the 
secret  of  Glen's  popularity  was  disclosed  to  him. 
Then,  as  he  looked  back  and  recalled  the  incidents 
of  their  Brimfield  life,  he  realized  what  a  manly, 
fearless,  open-hearted  boy  this  one,  whom  he 
had  regarded  with  contempt,  because  he  was  not 
a  student,  had  been.  Now  that  he  was  gone, 
and,  as  he  supposed,  lost  to  him  forever,  Binney 
thought  there  was  nothing  he  would  not  give  for 
a  chance  to  recall  the  past  and  win  the  friend 
ship  he  had  so  contemptuously  rejected. 

For  two   days  these  thoughts  exercised  so 


170  Campmates. 

strong  a  sway  on  Binney's  mind,  that  when,  on 
the  third,  Glen  Eddy  appeared  before  him  as  one 
risen  from  the  dead,  their  influence  was  not  to  be 
shaken  off.  Although  he  did  not  know  exactly 
how  to  begin,  he  was  determined  not  only  to  win 
the  friendship  of  the  boy  whom  he  had  for  so 
long  regarded  as  his  rival,  but  also  to  make  every 
member  of  the  party  like  him,  if  he  possibly  could. 

His  first  opportunity  came  that  evening;  but 
it  was  not  until  after  a  long  struggle  with  selfish 
ness  and  envy  that  he  resolved  to  contribute  that 
one-hundred-dollar  check  to  the  Lame  Wolf  Fund. 
He  knew  that  he  cut  an  awkward  figure  on  his 
mule,  and  imagined  that  a  horse  would  not  only 
be  much  more  elegant,  but  easier  to  ride.  Then, 
too,  Glen  had  such  a  beautiful  mare ;  beside  her 
his  wretched  mule  would  appear  to  a  greater  dis 
advantage  than  ever.  He  could  buy  as  fine  a 
pony  as  roamed  the  Plains  for  a  hundred  dollars. 
Then,  too,  that  was  what  his  father  had  sent  him 
the  money  for.  Had  he  a  right  to  use  it  for  any 
other  purpose?  To  be  sure,  Mr.  Gibbs  had  not 
known  of  the  mule,  and  supposed  his  son  would 
be  obliged  to  go  on  foot  if  he  did  not  buy  a 
horse. 

So  poor  Binney  argued  with  himself,  and  his 
old  evil  influences  strove  against  the  new  re 
solves.  It  is  doubtful  if  the  latter  would  have 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  171 

conquered,  had  not  the  sight  of  Glen  coming  tow 
ards  him  brought  a  sudden  impulse  to  the  aid 
of  the  resolves  and  decided  the  struggle  in  their 
favor. 

Thus  generosity  won,  but  by  so  narrow  a  mar 
gin  that  Binney  could  not  stand  being  thanked 
for  it,  and  so  hurried  away.  But  he  heard  the 
shouts  and  cheers  coupled  with  his  name,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  felt  even  happier  at  that 
moment  than  when  he  stood  on  the  platform  of 
the  Brimfield  High  School  and  was  told  of  the 
prize  his  scholarship  had  won. 

So  the  money  was  raised  to  redeem  one  young 
Cheyenne  from  the  misery  and  wickedness  of  a 
government  Indian  reservation;  and,  when  the 
grand  total  of  cash  and  subscriptions  was  footed 
up,  it  was  found  to  be  very  nearly  one  thousand 
dollars.  Glen  was  overjoyed  at  the  result,  and  it 
is  hard  to  tell  which  boy  was  the  happier,  as  he 
crept  into  his  blankets  that  night,  he  or  Binney 
Gibbs. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

GLEN   AND   BINNEY  GET   INTO   TROUBLE. 

THE  next  day,  when  Glen  announced  the  suc 
cessful  result  of  his  efforts  to  Captain  Winn,  that 
officer  informed  him  that  he  expected  to  be  or 
dered  East  very  shortly  on  special  duty,  when  he 
would  be  willing  to  take  charge  of  the  Indian 
boy,  and  deliver  him  to  Mr.  Matherson  in  Brim- 
field.  Nothing  could  have  suited  Glen's  plans 
better;  and  he  at  once  wrote  a  long  letter  to 
his  adopted  father,  telling  him  of  all  that  had 
happened,  and  begging  him  to  receive  the 
young  Indian  for  his  sake.  He  also  wrote  to 
Mr.  Meadows  and  asked  him  to  announce  the 
coming  of  the  stranger  to  the  Brimfield  boys. 
Then  he  hunted  up  the  interpreter,  and  went  to 
the  guard-house  for  a  long  talk  with  his  captive 
friend. 

Lame  Wolf  was  glad  to  see  him,  and  at  once 
asked  what  the  white  men  had  talked  of  in  their 
council  of  the  evening  before.  Glen  explained  it 
all  as  clearly  as  he  knew  how.  The  young  In 
dian  was  greatly  comforted  to  learn  that  he  was 


A  Story  of  the  Plams.  173 

not  to  be  put  to  death,  but  also  seemed  to  think 
that  it  would  be  nearly  as  bad  to  be  sent  far 
away  from  his  own  country  and  people,  to  the 
land  of  the  Pale-faces.  In  his  ignorance  he  re 
garded  the  place  of  his  proposed  exile  much  as 
we  do  the  interior  of  Africa  or  the  North  Pole, 
one  only  to  be  reached  by  a  weary  journey,  that 
few  ever  undertook,  and  fewer  still  returned 
from. 

He  was  somewhat  cheered  by  Glen's  promise 
to  join  him  at  the  end  of  a  year,  and  that  then,  if 
he  chose,  he  should  certainly  return  to  his  own 
people.  Still,  it  was  a  very  melancholy  and  for 
lorn  young  Indian  who  shook  hands,  for  the  last 
time,  with  the  white  boy  at  sunrise  the  next 
morning,  and  said, "  How,  Glen,"  in  answer  to  the 
other's  cheery  "  Good-by,  Lame  Wolf.  Take  care 
of  yourself,  and  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  talk 
English  the  next  time  I  see  you." 

Then,  after  bidding  good-bye  to  the  Winns  and 
his  other  friends  of  the  post,  the  boy  sprang  on 
Nettle's  back  and  dashed  after  the  wagon-train 
that  was  just  disappearing  over  a  roll  of  the  prai 
rie  to  the  westward. 

All  that  morning  Glen's  attention  was  claimed 
by  Mr.  Hobart,  or  "  Billy  "  Brackett,  or  somebody 
else,  who  wished  to  iearn  more  of  the  details  of 
his  recent  experience ;  but  late  in  the  afternoon 


274  Ca/mpmates. 

he  found  himself  riding  beside  Binney  Gibbs. 
For  the  first  time  in  their  lives  the  two  boys  held 
a  long  and  earnest  conversation.  From  it  each 
learned  of  good  qualities  in  the  other  that  he  had 
never  before  suspected;  and  by  it  a  long  step 
was  taken  towards  the  cementing  of  a  friendship 
between  them. 

So  engaged  were  they  in  this  talk,  that  the  ani 
mals  they  were  riding  were  allowed  insensibly  to 
slacken  their  pace,  until  they  had  fallen  a  con 
siderable  distance  behind  the  train.  They  even 
stopped  to  snatch  an  occasional  mouthful  of  grass 
from  the  wayside,  without  opposition  on  the  part 
of  their  young  riders.  These  knew  that,  when 
ever  they  chose,  a  sharp  gallop  of  a  minute  or 
two  would  place  them  alongside  of  the  wagons, 
and  so  they  carelessly  permitted  the  distance  be 
tween  them  and  the  train  to  become  much  greater 
than  it  should  have  been. 

Suddenly  a  dazzling  ray  of  light  flashed,  for  the 
fraction  of  a  second,  full  in  Glen's  eyes,  causing 
him  to  start,  as  though  a  pistol  had  been  fired 
close  beside  him.  He  glanced  hurriedly  about. 
Not  a  wagon  was  in  sight ;  but  he  knew  the  train 
must  be  just  over  the  rise  of  ground  he  and  Bin 
ney  were  ascending.  At  that  same  moment  the 
mule  threw  up  its  head  and  sniffed  the  air  un 
easily.  Glen's  second  glance  was  behind 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  175 

and  it  revealed  a  sight  that,  for  an  instant, 
stopped  the  beating  of  his  heart.  The  whole 
country  seemed  alive  with  Indians. 

Half  a  mile  in  the  rear,  hundreds  of  them,  in 
a  dense  body,  were  advancing  at  the  full  speed 
of  their  ponies.  A  small  party,  evidently  of 
scouts,  were  coming  down  the  slope  of  a  divide 
at  one  side,  in  the  direction  of  the  mirror-flash 
that  had  first  attracted  his  attention.  But  the 
worst  danger  of  all  lay  in  two  fierce-looking 
warriors  who  had  advanced  upon  the  boys  so 
silently  and  rapidly  that  they  were  already  with 
in  bow-shot. 

Fortunately,  Glen  was  close  beside  his  com 
panion.  With  a  quick  movement  he  grasped 
Binney  by  the  collar  and  jerked  him  to  one  side, 
so  that  he  very  nearly  fell  off  his  mule.  At  the 
same  instant  the  two  arrows,  that  he  had  seen 
fitted  to  their  bowstrings,  whizzed  harmlessly 
over  the  boys'  heads.  As  Nettle  and  the  mule 
sprang  away  up  the  slope,  several  rifle-balls,  from 
the  little  party  of  Indians  on  the  right,  whistled 
past  them ;  while  from  behind  them  rose  a  howl 
of  mingled  rage  and  disappointment.  The  first 
two  Indians  had  used  the  noiseless  arrows,  in  the 
hope  of  killing  the  boys  without  betraying  their 
presence  to  the  rest  of  the  party,  as  the  moment 
for  the  grand  charge,  that  they  hoped  would  be 


176  Camwpmates. 

such  a  complete  and  overwhelming  surprise,  had 
not  yet  arrived.  Now  that  they  had  failed  in 
this,  there  was  no  longer  any  need  for  caution, 
and  they  fired  shot  after  shot  from  their  rifles 
after  the  fugitives. 

Glen  had  seen  the  Cheyennes  dodge  from  side 
to  side,  as  they  rode  away  from  the  stage-ranch 
three  days  before,  to  disconcert  the  aim  of  its  de 
fenders  ;  and  now  he  and  Binney  employed  the 
same  device. 

Nettle  was  so  much  fleeter  than  the  mule  that 
Glen  could  have  gained  the  top  of  the  slope  in 
advance  of  his  companion  if  he  had  so  chosen ; 
but  he  rather  chose  to  be  a  little  behind  him  at 
this  point.  So,  instead  of  urging  the  mare  to  do 
her  best,  he  faced  about  in  his  saddle  and  re 
turned  the  rifle-shots  of  the  two  Indians  who 
were  nearest,  until  his  magazine  was  emptied. 
It  is  not  likely  that  any  of  his  shots  took  effect ; 
but  they  certainly  weakened  the  ardor  of  the  pur 
suit,  and  gave  Binney  Gibbs  a  chance  to  cross  the 
ridge  in  safety,  which  he  probably  could  not  have 
done  had  not  Glen  held  those  Indians  in  momen 
tary  check. 

With  his  last  shot  expended,  and  no  chance  to 
reload,  it  was  evidently  high  time  for  Glen  to 
test  the  speed  of  his  mare  to  its  utmost.  His  life 
depended  wholly  on  her  now,  and  he  knew  it. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  177 

There  would  be  no  taking  of  prisoners  this  time. 
Even  at  this  critical  moment  he  reflected  grimly, 
and  with  a  certain  satisfaction,  upon  the  difficulty 
the  Indians  would  find  in  getting  a  scalp  off  of 
his  shaven  head. 

All  this  riding  and  shooting  and  thinking  had 
been  done  so  rapidly  that  it  was  not  two  minutes 
from  the  time  of  that  first  tell-tale  mirror-flash 
before  Nettle  had  borne  her  rider  to  the  top  of 
the  ridge,  and  he  could  see  the  wagon-train,  not  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  him. 

Binney  Gibbs  was  already  half-way  to  it ;  and, 
as  Glen  caught  sight  of  him,  he  was  amazed  at  a 
most  extraordinary  performance.  Binney  sud 
denly  flew  from  his  saddle,  not  over  his  mule's 
head,  as  though  the  animal  had  flung  him,  but 
sideways,  as  though  he  had  jumped.  Whether 
he  left  the  saddle  of  his  own  accord  or  was  flung 
from  it  the  effect  was  the  same;  and  the  next 
instant  he  was  sprawling  at  full  length  on  the 
soft  grass,  while  the  mule,  relieved  of  his  weight, 
was  making  better  time  than  ever  towards  the 
wagons. 

Glen  had  left  the  trail,  thinking  to  cut  off  a 
little  distance  by  so  doing ;  and,  a  few  moments 
after  Binney's  leap  into  the  air,  he  performed  al 
most  the  same  act.  On  his  part  it  was  entirely 
involuntary,  and  was  caused  by  one  of  Nettle's 


Campmates. 

fore-feet  sinking  into  a  gopher  burrow  that  was 
invisible  and  not  to  be  avoided. 

As  horse  and  boy  rolled  over  together,  a  cry  of 
dismay  came  from  one  side,  and  a  wild  yeU  of 
exultation  from  the  other. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

FIGHTING  THE  FINEST   HORSEMEN  IN  THE   WORLD. 

IT  did  not  take  many  seconds  for  both  Glen 
and  Nettle  to  scramble  to  their  feet  after  the 
tremendous  header  caused  by  the  gopher -hole. 
Badly  shaken  though  he  was,  the  boy  managed 
to  regain  his  saddle  more  quickly  than  he  had 
ever  done  before.  But  seconds  are  seconds; 
and,  in  so  close  a  race  for  the  most  valuable  of 
all  earthly  prizes,  each  one  might  be  worth  a 
minute,  an  hour,  or  even  a  lifetime.  Glen  had 
not  more  than  regained  his  seat,  before  the  fore 
most  of  his  pursuers,  who  had  far  outstripped 
the  other,  was  upon  him.  With  an  empty  rifle, 
Glen  had  not  the  faintest  hope  of  escape  this 
time,  though  Nettle  sprang  bravely  forward.  He 
involuntarily  cringed  from  the  expected  blow, 
for  he  had  caught  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  an  up 
lifted  tomahawk ;  but  it  did  not  come.  Instead 
of  it,  he  heard  a  crash,  and  turned  in  time  to  see 
the  Indian  pony  and  its  rider  pitch  headlong,  as 
he  and  Nettle  had  done  a  minute  before.  They 
were  almost  beside  him ;  andr  as  he  dashed  away, 


180  Co/mpmates. 

he  was  conscious  of  wondering  if  they  too  had 
fallen  victims  to  an  unseen  gopher-hole. 

He  had  not  noticed  the  figure  running  to  meet 
him,  nor  heard  one  of  the  shots  it  was  firing  so 
wildly  as  it  ran.  If  he  had  he  might  have  real 
ized  that  his  salvation  had  not  depended  on  a 
gopher-hole,  but  on  one  of  those  random  shots 
from  Binney  Gibbs's  rifle.  By  the  merest  chance, 
for  it  was  fired  without  aim  and  almost  with 
out  direction,  it  had  pierced  the  brain  of  the 
Indian  pony,  and  decided  that  race  in  favor  of 
Glen. 

When,  to  Glen's  great  surprise,  the  two  boys 
met,  he  sprang  from  Nettle's  back  and  insisted 
that  Binney  should  take  his  place,  which  the 
other  resolutely  refused  to  do.  So  Glen  simply 
tossed  the  bridle  rein  into  Binney 's  hand,  and 
started  off  on  a  full  run.  In  a  moment  Nettle, 
with  Binney  on  her  back,  had  overtaken  him,  and 
the  generous  dispute  might  have  been  resumed 
had  not  a  party  of  mounted  men  from  the  wagon- 
train  just  then  dashed  up  and  surrounded  the 
boys.  They  were  headed  by  "  Billy  "  Brackett, 
who  cried  out, 

"Well,  you're  a  pretty  pair  of  babes  in  the 
woods,  aren't  you?  And  you've  been  having 
lots  of  fun  at  the  expense  of  our  anxiety  !  But 
jump  up  behind  me,  Glen,  quick,  for  I  believe 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  181 

every  wild  Injun  of  the  Plains  is  coming  down 
that  hill  after  us  at  this  moment." 

Just  before  the  first  shots  were  heard,  some 
anxiety  had  been  felt  in  the  train  concerning 
the  boys  who  had  lagged  behind,  and  "  Billy " 
Brackett  had  already  asked  if  he  had  not  better 
look  them  up.  Then,  as  the  sound  of  firing  came 
over  the  ridge,  and  the  boys  were  known  to  have 
got  into  some  sort  of  trouble,  he  rode  back  at 
full  speed,  followed  by  a  dozen  of  the  men.  All 
were  equally  ready  to  go,  but  the  rest  were  or 
dered  to  remain  behind  for  the  protection  of  the 
train.  Then  the  wagons  were  quickly  drawn  up 
in  double  line,  and  the  spare  stock  was  driven  in 
between  them. 

These  arrangements  were  hardly  completed 
before  "  Billy  "  Brackett  and  his  party,  with  the 
two  rescued  boys,  came  flying  back,  pursued  by 
the  entire  body  of  Indians.  As  the  former  gained 
the  wagons  they  faced  about,  and,  with  a  rattling 
volley,  checked  for  an  instant  the  further  ad 
vance  of  the  dusky  pony  riders. 

But  those  Cheyennes  and  Arrapahoes  and  Ki- 
owas  and  Comanches  were  not  going  to  let  so 
rich  a  prize  as  this  wagon -train  and  all  those 
scalps  escape  them  without  at  least  making  a 
bold  try  for  it.  If  they  could  only  force  the 
train  to  go  into  corral,  while  it  was  a  mile  away 


182  Campmates. 

from  the  nearest  stream,  they  would  have  taken 
a  long  step  towards  its  capture. 

So  they  divided  into  two  bands ;  and,  circling 
around,  came  swooping  down  on  the  train  from 
both  sides  at  once.  The  Plains  Indians  are  the 
finest  horsemen  in  the  world,  and  their  everyday 
feats  of  daring  in  the  saddle  would  render  the 
performance  of  the  best  circus -riders  tame  by 
comparison.  Now,  as  the  two  parties  swept  ob 
liquely  on  towards  the  motionless  wagons,  with 
well-ordered  ranks,  tossing  arms,  waving  plumes 
and  fringes,  gaudy  with  vivid  colors,  yelling  like 
demons,  and  sitting  their  steeds  like  centaurs, 
they  presented  a  picture  of  savage  warfare  at 
once  brilliant  and  terrible. 

At  the  flash  of  the  white  men's  rifles  every 
Indian  disappeared  as  though  shot,  and  the  next 
moment  their  answering  shower  of  bullets  and 
arrows  came  from  under  their  horses'  necks. 
The  headlong  speed  was  not  checked  for  an 
instant ;  but  after  delivering  their  volley  they 
circled  off  beyond  rifle-shot  for  a  breathing- 
spell. 

As  they  did  so,  the  wagon-train  moved  ahead. 
A  few  mules  had  been  killed  and  more  wounded 
by  the  Indian  volley;  but  their  places  were  quick 
ly  filled  from  the  spare  stock.  By  the  time  the 
Indians  were  ready  for  their  second  charge,  the 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  183 

train  was  several  hundred  yards  nearer  the  cov 
eted  water  than  before. 

Again  they  halted.  Again  the  young  engi 
neers,  inwardly  trembling  with  excitement,  but 
outwardly  as  firm  as  rocks,  took  their  places  un 
der  and  behind  the  wagons,  with  their  shining 
rifle-barrels  steadily  pointed  outward.  Some  of 
them  had  been  soldiers,  while  others  had  en 
countered  Indians  before ;  but  to  most  of  them 
this  was  the  first  battle  of  any  kind  they  had 
ever  seen.  But  they  all  knew  what  their  fate 
would  be  if  overpowered,  and  they  had  no  idea  of 
letting  these  Indians  get  any  nearer  than  within 
good  rifle-shot. 

"If  you  can't  see  an  Indian,  aim  at  the 
horses!"  shouted  General  Lyle,  from  his  posi 
tion  on  horseback  midway  between  the  two  lines 
of  wagons.  "Don't  a  man  of  you  fire  until  I 
give  the  word,  and  then  give  them  as  many  shots 
as  possible  while  they  are  within  range." 

The  chief  had  not  the  remotest  thought  of  al 
lowing  his  train  to  be  captured,  nor  yet  of  being 
compelled  to  corral  it  before  he  was  ready  to 
do  so. 

The  second  charge  of  the  Indians  was  even 
bolder  than  the  first,  and  they  were  allowed  to 
come  much  nearer  before  the  order  to  fire  wag 
given.  The  same  manoeuvres  were  repeated  as 


Campmates. 

before.  One  white  man,  a  member  of  Mr.  Ho- 
hart's  division,  was  killed  outright,  and  two 
others  were  wounded.  More  mules  were  killed 
than  before,  and  more  were  injured ;  but  still 
the  train  moved  ahead,  and  this  time  its  de 
fenders  could  see  the  sparkle  of  water  in  the 
river  they  longed  so  ardently  to  reach.  How 
thirsty  they  were  getting,  and  what  dry  work 
fighting  was!  The  wagon  mules  sniffed  the 
water  eagerly,  and  could  hardly  be  restrained 
from  rushing  towards  it. 

But  another  charge  must  be  repelled  first. 
This  time  it  was  so  fierce  that  the  Indians  rode 
straight  on  in  the  face  of  the  first  and  second 
volleys  from  the  engineers'  rifles.  When  the 
third,  delivered  at  less  than  two  rods'  distance, 
finally  shattered  their  ranks,  and  sent  them  fly 
ing  across  the  level  bottom-land,  they  left  a 
dozen  wagon  mules  transfixed  with  their  lances. 

The  Indians  left  many  a  pony  behind  them 
when  they  retreated  from  that  charge;  but  in 
every  case  their  riders,  killed,  wounded,  or  un 
hurt,  were  borne  off  by  the  others,  so  that  no 
estimate  of  their  loss  could  be  formed. 

Before  another  charge  could  be  made,  the 
wagons  had  been  rushed  forward,  with  their 
mules  on  a  full  gallop,  to  a  point  so  close  to 
the  river -bank  that  there  was  no  longer  any 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  185 

danger  of  being  cut  off  from  it.  Here  they  were 
corralled,  and  chained  together  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  present  an  almost  impregnable  front  to  the 
Indians.  At  least  it  was  one  that  those  who 
viewed  it,  with  feelings  of  bitter  disappoint 
ment,  from  a  safe  distance,  did  not  care  to  at 
tack.  After  they  had  noted  the  disposition  of 
the  train,  and  satisfied  themselves  that  it  was 
established  in  that  place  for  the  night,  they  dis 
appeared  so  completely  that  no  trace  of  them 
was  to  be  seen,  and  the  explorers  were  left  to 
take  an  account  of  the  losses  they  had  sustained 
in  this  brief  but  fierce  encounter. 

Only  one  man  killed !  What  a  comfort  it  was 
that  no  more  had  shared  his  fate,  and  yet  how 
sad  that  even  this  one  should  be  taken  from  their 
number !  Glen  had  known  him  well ;  for  he  was 
one  of  those  merry  young  Kansas  City  surveyors, 
one  of  the  "  bald  heads,"  as  they  were  known  in 
the  party.  An  hour  before  he  had  been  one  of 
the  joliiest  among  them.  He  was  one  of  those 
who  had  gone  out  so  cheerfully  with  "  Billy " 
Brackett  to  the  rescue  of  the  boys.  He  had 
been  instantly  killed  while  bravely  doing  his 
duty,  and  had  suffered  no  pain.  They  had  that 
consolation  as  they  talked  of  him  in  low,  awed 
tones.  His  body  could  not  be  sent  home.  It 
could  not  be  carried  with  them.  So  they  buried 


186  Campmates. 

him  in  a  grave  dug  just  inside  the  line  of  wag 
ons. 

The  last  level  beams  of  the  setting  sun  streamed 
full  on  the  spot  as  the  chief -engineer  read  the  sol 
emn  burial  service,  and  each  member  of  the  ex 
pedition,  stepping  forward  with  uncovered  head, 
dropped  a  handful  of  earth  into  the  open  grave. 
Then  it  was  filled,  and  its  mound  was  beaten  to 
the  level  of  the  surrounding  surface.  After  that, 
mules  and  horses  were  led  back  and  forth  over  it, 
until  there  was  no  longer  any  chance  of  its  rec 
ognition,  or  disturbance  by  Indians  or  prowling 
beasts. 

None  01  the  wounded  suffered  from  severe  in 
juries  ;  and,  though  the  bodies  of  the  wagons 
were  splintered  in  many  places,  and  their  canvas 
covers  gaped  with  rents,  no  damage  had  been 
sustained  that  could  not  be  repaired, 


CHAPTER  XXIT. 

CROSSING  THE   QUICKSANDS. 

As  soon  as  Glen  found  a  chance  to  talk  to  Bin- 
ney  Gibbs  he  asked  him  how  his  mule  happened 
to  throw  him  in  such  a  peculiar  fashion. 

"  He  didn't  throw  me,"  answered  Binney,  with 
a  look  of  surprise ;  "  I  jumped  off." 

"  What  on  earth  did  you  do  that  for  ?" 

"  Because  he  was  running  away,  and  I  couldn't 
stop  him.  I  saw  that  your  pony  couldn't  keep 
up  with  him,  and,  of  course,  I  wasn't  going  to 
leave  you  behind  to  fight  all  those  Indians  alone. 
So  I  got  off  the  only  way  I  could  think  of,  and 
started  back  to  help  you.  It  was  mighty  lucky 
I  did,  too.  Don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"Indeed  I  do !"  answered  Glen,  heartily,  though 
at  the  same  time  he  could  not  help  smiling  at  the 
idea  of  Kettle  not  being  able  to  keep  up  with 
Binney's  mule.  He  would  not  for  the  world, 
though,  have  belittled  the  other's  brave  act  by 
saying  that  he  had  purposely  remained  behind 
to  cover  his  companion's  flight.  He  only  said, 
"  Indeed  I  do,  and  it  was  one  of  the  finest  things 


188  Campmates. 

I  ever  heard  of,  Binney.  T  shall  always  remem 
ber  it,  and  always  be  grateful  for  it.  You  made 
a  splendid  shot,  too,  and  I  owe  my  life  to  it ;  for 
that  Indian  was  just  lifting  his  hatchet  over  my 
head  when  you  rolled  him  over.  I  tell  you  it 
was  a  mighty  plucky  thing  ior  anybody  to  do, 
especially — "  Glen  was  about  ^o  say, "  especially 
for  a  fellow  who  has  never  been  considered  very 
brave  •'  but  he  checked  himself  in  time,  and  sub 
stituted,  "  for  a  fellow  who  never  had  any  expe 
rience  with  Indians  before." 

Binney  knew  well  enough,  though,  that  the 
Brimfield  boys  had  always  thought  him  a  cow 
ard  ;  for  they  had  never  hesitated  to  tell  him  so. 
Now,  to  be  praised  for  bravery,  and  that  by  the 
bravest  boy  he  had  ever  known,  was  a  new  and 
very  pleasant  sensation.  It  was  even  better  than 
to  be  called  generous,  and  he  mentally  vowed, 
then  and  there,  never  again  to  forfeit  this  newly 
gained  reputation. 

There  is  nothing  that  wiL.  so  stimulate  a  boy 
or  girl  to  renewed  efforts  as  a  certain  amount  of 
praise  where  it  is  really  deserved.  Too  much 
praise  is  flattery ;  and  praise  that  is  not  deserved 
is  as  bad  as  unjust  censure. 

While  the  boys  were  thus  talking  they  received 
word  that  General  Lyle  wished  to  see  them.  They 
found  him  sitting,  with  Mr.  Hobart,  in  an  ambu« 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  189 

lance ;  for  it  had  been  ordered  that  no  tents  should 
be  pitched  in  that  camp.  When  they  stood  be 
fore  the  chief-engineer  he  said,  kindly : 

"  Boys,  I  want  both  to  reprimand  and  thank 
you.  I  am  surprised  that  you  should  have  so 
disobeyed  my  positive  orders  as  to  lose  sight  of 
the  train  when  on  a  march  through  an  Indian 
country.  This  applies  to  you,  Matherson,  more 
than  to  your  companion ;  for  your  late  experi 
ence  should  have  taught  you  better.  I  trust  that 
my  speaking  to  you  now  will  prevent  any  repe 
tition  of  such  disobedience.  Your  carelessness 
of  this  afternoon  might  have  cost  many  precious 
lives,  including  your  own.  That  is  all  of  the  rep 
rimand.  The  thanks  I  wish  to  express  are  for 
your  timely  warning  of  the  presence  of  Indians, 
and  for  the  individual  bravery  displayed  by  both 
of  you  during  our  encounter  with  them.  That 
is  all  I  have  to  say  this  time,  and  I  hope  next 
time  the  reprimand  may  be  omitted." 

As  the  two  boys,  feeling  both  ashamed  and 
pleased,  bowed  and  took  their  departure,  the 
chief,  turning  to  his  companion,  said :  "  They 
are  fine  young  fellows,  Hobart,  and  I  congratu 
late  you  on  having  them  in  your  division.  Now 
let  us  decide  on  our  plans  for  to-night." 

This  last  remark  referred  to  the  decision  Gen 
eral  Lyle  had  formed  of  placing  the  river  between 


190  Campmates. 

his  party  and  the  Indians  before  daylight.  He 
knew  that  the  Indians  of  the  Plains,  like  all  oth 
ers  of  their  race,  are  extremely  averse  to  under 
taking  anything  of  importance  in  the  dark.  He 
also  knew  that  their  favorite  time  for  making  an 
attack  is  when  they  can  catch  their  enemy  at  a 
disadvantage,  as  would  be  the  case  while  his  wag 
ons  were  crossing  the  river  and  his  men  and  an 
imals  were  struggling  with  its  probable  quick 
sands.  Another  serious  consideration  was  that, 
during  the  summer  season,  all  the  rivers  of  the 
Plains  are  liable  to  sudden  and  tremendous  fresh 
ets,  that  often  render  them  impassable  for  days. 
Thus  it  was  unwise  to  linger  on  the  near  bank  of 
one  that  was  fordable  a  moment  longer  than  nec 
essary.  He  had,  therefore,  decided  to  make  the 
crossing  of  this  stream  that  night,  as  quietly  as 
possible,  and  as  soon  as  darkness  had  set  in.  For 
this  reason  none  of  the  baggage,  except  the  mess- 
chests  and  a  sack  of  corn,  had  been  taken  from 
the  wagons,  so  that  a  start  could  be  made  at  a 
few  minutes'  notice. 

With  the  last  of  the  lingering  daylight  the 
chief,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Hobart  and  the  wagon- 
master,  crossed  the  river  on  horseback,  to  dis 
cover  its  depth,  the  character  of  its  bottom,  the 
nature  of  the  opposite  bank,  and  to  locate  a  camp 
ing-ground  on  its  farther  side.  They  found  the 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  191 

water  to  be  but  a  few  inches  deep,  except  in  one 
narrow  channel,  where  it  had  a  depth  of  about 
three  feet.  They  also  found  the  bottom  to  be  of 
that  most  treacherous  of  quicksands  which  is  so 
hard  that  a  thousand-pound  hammer  cannot  force 
a  post  into  it,  yet  into  which  that  same  post 
would  slowly  sink  of  its  own  weight  until  lost  to 
sight,  and  held  with  such  terrible  tenacity  that 
nothing  short  of  a  steam-engine  could  pull  it  out. 
Such  a  quicksand  as  this  is  not  dangerous  to  the 
man  or  animal  who  keeps  his  feet  in  constant 
motion  while  crossing  it,  but  woe  to  him  if  he 
neglects  this  precaution  for  a  single  minute.  In 
that  case,  unless  help  reaches  him,  he  is  as  surely 
lost  as  though  clasped  in  the  relentless  embrace 
of  a  tiger. 

The  only  place  on  the  opposite  bank  where 
teams  could  emerge  from  the  water  was  very 
narrow,  and  a  team  striking  below  it  in  the  dark 
would  almost  certainly  be  lost.  Thus  the  prob 
lem  of  a  safe  crossing  at  night  became  a  difficult 
one.  It  would  be  unsafe  to  build  fires  or  use  lan 
terns,  as  these  would  surely  draw  the  attention, 
and  probably  the  bullets,  of  the  Indians. 

Finally  the  plan  was  adopted  of  stretching  a 
rope  across  the  river,  from  bank  to  bank,  on  the 
lower  side  of  the  ford,  with  a  line  of  men  sta 
tioned  along  its  entire  length,  so  that  no  team 


Campmates. 

could  get  below  it.  These  were  charged,  as  they 
valued  their  lives,  to  keep  their  feet  in  constant 
motion,  and  on  no  account  to  let  go  of  the  rope. 

First  the  ambulances  were  put  across.  Then 
the  spare  stock  and  saddle-animals  were  led  over, 
and  securely  fastened.  Six  spare  mules,  harnessed 
and  attached  to  a  loose  rope,  were  held  in  readi 
ness,  on  the  farther  bank,  to  assist  any  team  that 
might  get  stalled  in  the  river.  Then,  one  by  one, 
the  heavily  laden  wagons  began  to  cross,  with 
two  men  leading  each  team.  There  was  little 
difficulty  except  at  the  channel,  where  the  mules 
were  apt  to  be  frightened  at  the  sudden  plunge 
into  deeper  water. 

A  mule  hates  the  dark  almost  as  much  as  an 
Indian ;  he  dislikes  to  work  in  water,  and  above 
all  he  dreads  miry  places  or  quicksands,  for  which 
his  small,  sharp  hoofs  are  peculiarly  unfitted.  He 
is  easily  panic-stricken,  and  is  then  wholly  un 
manageable.  A  team  of  mules,  finding  them 
selves  stalled  in  a  stream,  will  become  frantic 
with  terror.  They  utter  agonized  cries,  attempt 
to  clamber  on  one  another's  back,  and  frequently 
drown  themselves  before  they  can  be  cut  loose 
from  the  traces  and  allowed  to  escape. 

In  spite  of  all  the  difficulties  to  be  overcome, 
the  wagons  were  got  safely  over,,  until  only  one 
remained,  and  it  had  started  on  its  perilous  jour- 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  193 

ney.  Those  members  of  the  party  who  stood  in 
the  water  holding  the  rope  were  becoming  thor 
oughly  chilled,  as  well  as  wearied  by  the  tread 
mill  exercise  necessary  to  keep  their  feet  from 
sinking  in  the  quicksand.  Thus,  though  they 
still  stuck  manfully  to  their  posts,  they  were 
thankful  enough  that  this  was  the  last  wagon, 
and  noted  the  sound  of  its  progress  with  eager 
interest.  They  were  all  volunteers,  for  nobody 
had  been  ordered  to  remain  in  the  river,  and  this 
fact  added  to  the  strength  of  purpose  with  which 
they  maintained  their  uncomfortable  positions. 

Among  them  were  Glen  Eddy  and  Binney 
Gibbs,  who,  when  volunteers  were  called  for  to 
perform  this  duty,  had  rushed  into  the  river 
among  the  first.  Now  they  stood,  side  by  side, 
near  the  middle  of  the  stream,  and  close  to  the 
edge  of  the  channel.  They  rejoiced  to  see  the 
dim  bulk  of  the  last  wagon  looming  out  of  the 
darkness,  and  to  know  that  their  weary  task  was 
nearly  ended. 

The  mules  of  this  team  were  unusually  ner 
vous,  splashing  more  than  any  of  the  others  had 
done,  and  snorting  loudly.  The  rope  had  been 
cast  loose  from  the  bank  the  party  had  so  re 
cently  quitted,  and  all  those  who  had  upheld  it 
beyond  Glen  and  Binney  had  passed  by  them  on 
their  way  to  the  other  side.  They,  too,  would 


194>  Campmates. 

be  relieved  from  duty  as  soon  as  the  team  crosses 
the  channel. 

But  there  seemed  to  be  some  difficulty  about 
persuading  the  mules  to  cross  it.  As  the  leaders 
felt  the  water  growing  deeper  and  the  sandy  bank 
giving  way  beneath  them,  they  sprang  back  in 
terror,  and  threw  the  whole  team  into  confusion. 
The  wagon  came  to  a  standstill,  and  everybody 
in  the  vicinity  realized  its  danger.  The  driver, 
feeling  that  the  need  for  silence  and  caution  was 
past,  began  to  shout  at  his  mules,  and  the  re 
ports  of  his  blacksnake  whip  rang  out  like  pistol- 
shots. 

In  the  excitement  of  the  moment  nobody  no 
ticed  or  paid  any  attention  to  a  gleaming  line  of 
white  froth  that  came  creeping  down  the  river, 
stretching  from  bank  to  bank  like  a  newly  formed 
snow-drift.  Suddenly  a  rifle-shot  rang  out  from 
the  bank  they  had  left,  then  another,  and  then  a 
dozen  at  once.  The  Indians  had  discovered  their 
flight,  and  were  firing  angrily  in  the  direction  of 
the  sounds  in  the  river.  The  teamster  sprang 
from  his  saddle,  and,  cutting  the  traces  of  his 
mules,  started  them  towards  the  shore,  leaving 
the  wagon  to  its  fate. 

"It's  time  we  were  off,  too,  old  man,"  said 
Glen,  as  he  started  to  follow  the  team. 

"  I  can't  move,  Glen !    Oh,  help  me !    I'm  sink- 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  196 

ing  1"  screamed  Binney,  in  a  tone  of  inexpressi 
ble  anguish. 

Glen  dropped  the  rope,  and  sprang  to  his  com 
panion's  assistance. 

At  the  same  instant  there  came  a  great  shout 
from  the  bank,  "  Hurry  up,  there's  a  freshet  com 
ing  !  Hurry !  Hurry,  or  you'll  be  swept  away !" 

With  both  arms  about  Binney,  Glen  was  strain 
ing  every  nerve  of  his  muscular  young  body  to 
tear  his  friend  loose  from  the  grasp  of  the  terror 
that  held  him.  He  could  not ;  but  a  wall  of  black 
water  four  feet  high,  that  came  rushing  down  on 
tham  with  an  angry  roar,  was  mightier  even  than 
the  quicksand,  and,  seizing  both  the  boys  in  its 
irresistible  embrace,  it  wrenched  them  loose  and 
overwhelmed  them. 


CHAPTER  XXY. 

SWEPT  AWAY   BY   A   FRESHET. 

THE  rush  of  waters  that  wrenched  Binney 
Gibbs  loose  from  the  grasp  of  the  quicksand 
which  had  seized  him  as  he  remained  motionless 
for  a  minute,  forgetful  of  his  own  danger  in  the 
excitement  caused  by  that  of  the  team,  also  flung 
the  rope  they  had  been  holding  against  Glen 
Eddy.  He  held  to  it  desperately  with  one  hand, 
while,  with  the  other  arm  about  his  companion, 
he  prevented  him  from  being  swept  away.  As 
the  mad  waters  dashed  the  boys  from  their  feet 
and  closed  over  them,  it  seemed  as  though  Glen's 
arms  must  be  torn  from  their  sockets,  and  he 
would  have  had  to  let  go  had  not  Binney  also 
succeeded  in  grasping  the  rope  so  that  the  great 
strain  was  somewhat  relieved.  Gasping  for  breath, 
they  both  rose  to  the  surface. 

A  huge  white  object  was  bearing  directly  down 
on  them.  They  could  not  avoid  it.  Glen  was 
the  first  to  recognize  its  nature.  "  It's  the 
wagon !"  he  shouted.  "  Grab  hold  of  it,  and 
hang  on  for  your  life  1" 


A  Story  of  ike  Plains.  197 

Then  it  struck  them  and  tore  loose  their  hold 
of  the  rope.  They  both  managed  to  clutch  it, 
though  Binney's  slight  strength  was  so  nearly  ex 
hausted  that,  but  for  Glen,  he  must  speedily  have 
let  go  and  sunk  again  beneath  the  foam-flecked 
waters.  Now  the  other's  sturdy  frame  and  ath 
letic  training  came  splendidly  to  his  aid.  Ob 
taining  a  firm  foothold  in  the  flooded  wagon, 
he  pulled  Binney  up  to  him  by  the  sheer  strength 
of  his  muscular  young  arms.  For  a  moment 
they  stood  together  panting  for  breath,  and  the 
weaker  boy  clinging  to  the  stronger. 

But  the  water  was  still  rising ;  and,  as  the  heav 
ily  laden  wagon  could  not  float,  it  seemed  likely  to 
be  totally  submerged.  "  It's  no  use,  Glen.  "We'll 
be  drowned,  anyhow,"  said  Binney,  despairingly. 

"  Oh,  no,  we  won't.  Not  just  yet,  anyway," 
answered  the  other,  trying  to  sustain  his  com 
panion's  spirits  by  speaking  hopefully.  "  We  can 
get  out  of  the  water  entirely,  by  climbing  up  on 
top  of  the  cover,  and  I  guess  it  will  bear  us." 

It  was  a  suggestion  worth  trying ;  and,  though 
the  undertaking  was  perilous  and  difficult  in  the 
extreme,  under  the  circumstances,  they  finally 
succeeded  in  accomplishing  it,  and  found  them 
selves  perched  on  the  slippery,  sagging  surface 
of  the  canvas  cover,  that,  supported  by  stout  ash 
bows,  was  stretched  above  the  wagon. 


198  Campmates. 

All  this  time  their  strange  craft,  though  not 
floating,  was  borne  slowly  but  steadily  down 
•tream  by  the  force  of  the  current.  Every  now 
and  then  it  seemed  as  though  about  to  capsize ; 
and,  had  it  been  empty,  it  must  certainly  have 
done  so ;  but  its  heavy  load,  acting  like  ballast 
in  a  boat,  kept  it  upright.  It  headed  in  all  di 
rections,  and  at  times,  when  its  wheels  could  re 
volve  on  the  bottom  of  the  river,  it  moved  stead 
ily  and  rapidly.  It  was  when  it  got  turned 
broadside  to  the  current  that  the  two  shivering 
figures,  clutching  at  their  uncertain  support, 
became  most  apprehensive,  and  expected  it  to 
be  overturned  by  the  great  pressure  brought  to 
bear  against  it. 

How  slowly  the  minutes  and  hours  dragged 
by!  It  was  about  midnight  when  the  freshet 
struck  them  and  they  started  on  this  most  ex 
traordinary  voyage;  but  from  that  time  until 
they  saw  the  first  streaks  of  rosy  light  in  the 
east  seemed  an  eternity. 

More  than  once  during  the  night  the  wagon 
brought  up  against  some  obstruction,  and  re 
mained  motionless  for  longer  or  shorter  intervals 
of  time ;  but  it  had  always  been  forced  ahead 
again,  and  made  to  resume  its  uncertain  wan 
derings. 

Now,  as  the  welcome  daylight  crept  slowly 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  199 

over  the  scene,  it  found  the  strange  ark,  with  its 
two  occupants,  again  stranded,  and  this  time  im 
movably  so.  At  length  Glen  exclaimed,  joy 
fully  :  "  There's  the  western  bank,  the  very  one 
we  want  to  reach,  close  to  us.  I  believe  we  can 
swim  to  it,  as  easy  as  not." 

"  But  I  can't  swim,  you  know,"  replied  Binney, 
dolefully. 

"  That's  so ;  I  forgot,"  said  Glen,  in  a  dismayed 
tone.  "But  look,"  he  added,  and  again  there 
was  a  hopeful  ring  to  his  voice,  "  there  are  the 
tops  of  some  bushes  between  us  and  it.  The 
water  can't  be  very  deep  there.  Perhaps  we  can 
touch  bottom,  and  you  can  wade  if  you  can't 
swim.  I'm  going  over  there  and  take  soundings." 

Binney  dreaded  being  left  alone,  and  was  about 
to  beg  his  companion  not  to  desert  him,  but  the 
words  were  checked  on  his  lips  by  the  thought 
of  the  reputation  he  had  to  sustain.  So,  as  Glen 
pulled  off  his  wet  clothing,  he  said,  "  All  right, 
only  be  very  careful  and  don't  go  too  far,  for  I 
think  I  would  rather  drown  with  you  than  be 
left  here  all  alone." 

"  Never  fear !"  cried  Glen ;  "  swimming  is  about 
the  one  thing  I  can  do.  So,  here  goes  !" 

He  had  climbed  down,  and  stood  on  the  edge 
of  the  submerged  wagon  body  as  he  spoke.  Now 
he  sprang  far  out  in  the  yellow  waters,  and  the 


WO  Campmates. 

next  moment  was  making  his  way  easily  through 
them  towards  the  bushes.  The  swift  current 
carried  him  down-stream ;  but  at  length  he  caught 
one  of  them,  and,  letting  his  feet  sink,  touched 
bottom  in  water  up  to  his  neck. 

"  It's  all  right !"  he  shouted  back  to  JBinney. 
Pulling  himself  along  from  one  bit  of  willow  to 
another,  he  waded  towards  the  bank  until  the 
water  was  not  more  than  up  to  his  waist.  Then 
he  made  his  way  up-stream  until  he  was  some 
distance  above  the  place  where  the  wagon  was 
stranded,  and,  two  minutes  later,  he  had  waded 
and  swum  back  to  it. 

Binney  had  watched  every  movement  anxious 
ly,  and  now  he  said,  "  That's  all  well  enough  for 
you;  but  I  don't  see  how  I  am  going  to  get 
there." 

"  By  resting  your  hands  on  my  shoulders  and 
letting  me  swim  with  you  till  you  can  touch  bot 
tom,  of  course,"  answered  Glen. 

He  could  not  realize  Binney's  dread  of  the 
water,  nor  what  a  struggle  against  his  natural 
timidity  took  place  in  the  boy's  mind  before  he 
answered,  "  Yery  well,  if  you  say  so,  Glen,  I'll 
trust  you." 

While  he  was  laying  aside  his  water-soaked 
clothing  and  preparing  for  the  dreaded  under 
taking,  Glen  suddenly  uttered  an  exclamation  of 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  %01 

dismay.  He  had  spied  several  horsemen  riding 
along  the  river-bank  towards  them.  Were  they 
white  men  or  Indians  1  Did  their  coming  mean 
life  or  death  ? 

"  I'm  afraid  they  are  Indians,"  said  Glen;  "  for 
our  camp  must  be  ten  miles  off." 

Binney  agreed  with  him  that  they  must  have 
come  at  least  that  distance  during  the  night,  and 
the  boys  watched  the  oncoming  horsemen  with 
heavy  hearts. 

"  I'd  rather  drown  than  let  them  get  me  again," 
said  Glen. 

But  Binney  had  not  had  the  other's  experience 
with  Indians,  and  to  him  nothing  could  be  more 
terrible  than  water. 

Long  and  earnestly  they  watched,  filled  with 
alternate  hopes  and  fears.  The  riders  seemed  to 
move  very  slowly.  All  at  once,  Glen  uttered  a 
shout  of  joy.  "  They  are  white  men !"  he  cried. 
"  I  can  see  their  hats  ;"  and,  seizing  his  wet  shirt, 
he  began  to  wave  it  frantically  above  his  head. 

That  his  signal  was  seen  was  announced  by  a 
distant  cheer,  and  several  shots  fired  in  quick 
succession.  A  few  minutes  later,  six  white  men 
reined  in  their  horses  on  the  bank,  just  abreast 
the  wagon.  They  were  hardly  able  to  credit 
their  eyes  as  they  recognized,  in  the  two  naked 
figures  clinging  to  it,  those  whom  they  had  been 


802  Oampmates. 

so  certain  were  long  ago  drowned,  and  for  whose 
bodies  they  were  searching.  As  they  hurriedly 
consulted  concerning  how  best  to  effect  a  rescue, 
they  were  amazed  to  see  both  boys  clamber  down 
from  their  perch,  and  drop  into  the  turbid  waters, 
one  after  the  other.  When  they  realized  that 
Glen  and  Binney  were  swimming,  and  trying  in 
this  way  to  reach  the  shore,  they  forced  their 
horses  down  the  steep  bank  and  dashed  into  the 
shallow  overflow  of  the  bottom-land  to  meet 
them. 

At  that  moment  Binney  Gibbs,  by  trusting 
himself  so  implicitly  to  Glen's  strength  and  skill, 
in  an  element  where  he  was  so  utterly  helpless, 
was  displaying  a  greater  courage  than  where, 
acting  under  impulse,  he  sprang  from  his  mule 
the  day  before,  and  ran  back  to  fight  Indians. 
The  bravest  deeds  are  always  those  that  are  per 
formed  deliberately  and  after  a  careful  consider 
ation  of  their  possible  consequences. 

As  "  Billy  "  Brackett,  who  was  the  first  to  reach 
the  boys,  relieved  Glen  of  his  burden,  he  ex 
claimed, 

"  Well,  if  I  had  the  luck  of  you  f ellows  I'd 
change,  my  name  to  Yanderbilt  and  run  for  Con 
gress  !  We  were  sure  you  were  gone  up  this 
time,  and  the  best  I  hoped  for  was  to  find  your 
bodies.  Instead  of  that,  here  you  are,  hardly  out 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

of  sight  of  camp,  perched  on  the  top  of  a  wagon, 
as  chipper  as  a  couple  of  sparrows  after  a  rain 
storm." 

"  Where  is  camp  $"  inquired  Glen,  who  wa? 
now  wading  easily  along  beside  the  other's  horse. 

"  Just  around  that  farther  bend,  up  there." 

"What  made  it  come  so  far  down  the  river, 
and  off  the  road  3" 

"It  hasn't.  It's  right  at  the  ford,  where  we 
crossed  last  night." 

"But  I  thought  that  was  at  least  ten  miles 
from  here." 

"Ten  miles!  Why,  my  son,  you  must  have 
imagined  you  were  travelling  on  a  four-wheeled 
steamboat  all  night,  instead  of  an  old  water 
logged  prairie  schooner.  We  are  not,  at  this 
minute,  quite  a  mile  from  the  place  where  you 
started  on  your  cruise." 

It  was  hard  for  the  boys  to  realize  the  truth 
of  this  statement ;  but  so  it  was ;  and,  during 
those  tedious  hours  of  darkness  they  had  only 
travelled  rods  instead  of  miles,  as  they  had  fan 
cied. 

After  the  short  delay  necessary  to  recover  the 
boys'  clothing  from  the  wagon,  they  were  trium 
phantly  borne  back  to  camp  by  the  rescuing- 
party.  There  the  enthusiasm  with  which  they 
were  received  was  only  equalled  by  the  amaze- 


Campmates. 

ment  of  those  who  crowded  about  them  and  lis 
tened  to  the  account  of  their  adventure. 

By  means  of  a  double  team  of  mules,  and  some 
stout  ropes,  even  the  wagon  on  which  they  had 
made  their  curious  voyage  was  recovered,  and 
found  to  be  still  serviceable,  though  the  greater 
part  of  its  load  was  ruined. 

The  river  was  still  an  impassable  stream,  as 
wide  as  the  Mississippi  at  St.  Louis,  and  was 
many  feet  deep  over  the  place,  on  its  farther 
side,  where  they  had  camped  at  sunset.  Thus 
there  was  no  danger  of  another  attack  from  In 
dians.  Two  hours  after  sunrise  the  explorers 
were  again  wending  their  way  westward,  rejoic 
ing  over  their  double  escape,  and  over  the  recov 
ery  of  the  two  members  who  had  been  given  up 
as  lost. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

RUNNING    THE    LINE. 

AFTER  this  day  and  night,  crowded  so  full  of 
incident,  four  days  of  steady  travel  brought 
General  Lyle's  expedition  to  a  point  close  to  the 
boundary  -  line  between  Kansas  and  Colorado, 
where  their  surveys  were  to  begin.  The  last 
hundred  miles  of  their  journey  had  been  through 
a  region  studded  with  curious  masses  of  sand 
stone.  These  were  scattered  far  and  wide  over 
the  Plains,  and  rose  to  a  height  of  from  one  hun 
dred  to  three  hundred  feet,  resembling  towers, 
monuments,  castles,  and  ruins  of  every  descrip 
tion.  It  was  hard  to  believe  that  many  of  them 
were  not  the  work  of  human  hands ;  and  to  Glen 
and  Binney  they  formed  an  inexhaustible  sub 
ject  for  wonder  and  speculation. 

They  were  now  more  than  three  thousand  feet 
above  the  sea-level ;  the  soil  became  poorer  with 
every  mile ;  there  were  fewer  streams,  and  along 
those  that  did  exist  timber  was  almost  unknown. 

The  first  line  of  survey  was  to  be  a  hard  one ; 
for  it  was  to  run  through  the  very  worst  of  this 


206  Ccvm/pmates. 

country — from  the  Smoky  Hill  to  the  Arkansas, 
a  region  hitherto  unexplored,  and  known  only  to 
the  few  buffalo  hunters  who  had  crossed  it  at 
long  intervals.  The  distance  was  supposed  to  be 
about  seventy  miles,  and  there  was  said  to  be  no 
water  along  the  entire  route.  But  both  a  transit 
and  a  level  line  must  be  run  over  this  barren  re 
gion,  and  the  distance  must  be  carefully  meas 
ured.  A  good  day's  work  for  a  surveying-party, 
engaged  in  running  a  first,  or  preliminary,  line  in 
an  open  country,  is  eight  or  ten  miles ;  and,  at 
this  rate,  the  distance  between  the  Smoky  Hill 
and  the  Arkansas  rivers  could  be  covered  in  a 
week.  But  a  week  without  water  was  out  of  the 
question,  and  General  Lyle  determined  to  do  it  in 
three  days. 

On  the  night  before  beginning  this  remarkable 
survey,  every  canteen  and  bottle  that  could  be 
found  was  filled  with  water,  as  were  several 
casks.  Everybody  drank  as  much  as  he  could  in 
the  morning,  and  all  the  animals  were  watered 
the  very  last  thing.  Everything  was  packed  and 
ready  for  a  start  by  daylight,  and  long  before 
sunrise  the  working-party  was  in  the  field.  The 
first  division  was  to  run  the  first  two  miles.  Its 
transit  was  set  up  over  the  last  stake  of  the  old 
survey  that  had  been  ended  at  that  point,  and 
the  telescope  was  pointed  in  the  direction  of  the 


A  Story  of  ike  Plains,  007 

course  now  to  be  taken.  The  division  engineer, 
with  his  front  flagman,  had  already  galloped 
half  a  mile  away  across  the  plain.  There  they 
halted,  and  the  gayly  painted  staff,  with  its  flut 
tering  red  pennon,  was  held  upright.  Then  it 
was  moved  to  the  right  or  left,  as  the  transit-man, 
peering  through  his  telescope,  waved  his  right  or 
left  arm.  Finally,  he  waved  both  at  a  time,  and 
the  front  flag  was  thrust  into  the  ground.  It 
was  on  line. 

Now  the  head  chainman  starts  off  on  a  run, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  distant  flag,  and  drag 
ging  a  hundred  feet  of  glistening  steel-links  be 
hind  him.  "  Stick !"  shouts  the  rear  chainman, 
who  stands  beside  the  transit,  as  he  grasps  the 
end  of  the  chain  and  pulls  it  taut.  "  Stuck !"  an 
swers  the  man  in  front,  thrusting  one  of  the  steel 
pins  that  he  carries  in  his  hand  into  the  ground. 
Then  he  runs  on,  and  the  rear  chainman  runs 
after  him,  but  just  a  hundred  feet  behind. 

Two  axemen,  one  with  a  bundle  of  marked 
stakes  in  his  arms,  and  the  other  carrying  an 
axe  with  which  to  drive  them,  follow  the  chain 
closely.  At  the  end  of  each  five  hundred  feet 
they  drive  a  stake.  If  stakes  were  not  so  scarce 
in  this  country,  they  would  set  one  at  the  end  of 
every  hundred  feet.  It  does  not  make  much  dif 
ference;  for  these  stakes  will  not  remain  stand- 


Campmates. 

ing  very  long  anyhow.  The  buffalo  will  soon 
pull  them  up,  by  rubbing  and  scratching  their 
heads  against  them.  At  the  end  of  every  half- 
mile,  a  mound  of  earth — or  stones,  if  they  can  be 
found — is  thrown  up ;  and  these  the  Indians  will 
level  whenever  they  come  across  them.  Perhaps 
some  of  them  will  be  left,  though. 

While  the  chainmen  are  measuring  the  dis 
tance  to  that  front  flag,  and  the  axemen  are  driv 
ing  stakes  and  throwing  up  mounds,  the  transit- 
man,  mounted  on  a  steady-going  mule,  with  the 
transit  on  his  shoulder,  is  galloping  ahead  to 
where  the  front  flag  awaits  him.  Only  the  back 
flagman  is  left  standing  at  the  place  from  which 
the  first  sight  was  taken. 

The  front  flagman  thrust  a  small  stake  in  the 
ground,  drove  a  tack  in  its  centre,  and  held  his 
flag  on  it  before  he  waved  the  transit-man  up. 
Now  the  transit  is  set  over  this  stake  so  that  the 
centre  of  the  instrument  is  directly  over  the  tack ; 
and  while  it  is  being  made  ready  the  front  flag 
is  again  galloping  away  over  the  rolling  prairie, 
far  in  advance  of  the  rest  of  the  party. 

The  transit-man  first  looks  through  his  tel 
escope  at  the  back  flag,  now  far  behind  him,  and 
waves  to  him  to  come  on.  Then  the  telescope  is 
reversed,  and  he  is  ready  to  wave  the  front  flag 
into  line  as  soon  as  he  stops. 


A  St&ry  of  the  Plains.  %09 

The  leveller,  with  two  rodmen,  all  well  mount 
ed,  follow  behind  the  transit-party,  noting,  by 
means  of  their  instruments,  the  elevation  above 
sea-level  of  every  stake  that  is  driven. 

So  the  work  goes  on  with  marvellous  rapidity 
— every  man  and  horse  and  mule  on  a  run  until 
two  miles  have  been  chained  and  it  is  time  for 
the  breathless  first  division  to  have  a  rest. 

Mr.  Hobart  has  watched  their  work  carefully. 
He  has  also  made  some  changes  in  his  force,  and 
is  going  to  see  what  sort  of  a  front  flagman  Glen 
Eddy  will  make.  This  is  because  Nettle  has 
proved  herself  the  fleetest  pony  in  the  whole  out 
fit. 

"  Two  miles  in  fifty-two  minutes !"  shouts  Mr. 
Hobart  to  his  men,  as  the  stake  that  marks  the 
end  of  ten  thousand  five  hundred  and  sixty  feet 
is  driven.  "  Boys,  we  must  do  better  than  that." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!  We  will!"  shout  the  "bald 
heads,"  as  they  spring  to  the  places  the  first- 
division  men  are  just  leaving. 

Mr.  Hobart,  Glen,  and  a  mounted  axeman  are 
already  galloping  to  the  front.  They  dash  across 
a  shallow  valley,  lying  between  two  great  swells 
of  the  prairie,  and  mount  the  gentle  slope  on  its 
farther  side,  a  mile  away.  It  is  a  long  transit 
sight ;  but  "  Billy  "  Brackett  can  take  it. 

The  boy  who  rides  beside  the  division  engineer 


%10  Campmates. 

is  very  proud  of  his  new  position,  and  sits  his 
spirited  mare  like  a  young  lancer.  The  slender, 
steel-shod,  red-and-white  staff  of  his  flag-pole, 
bearing  its  gay  pennon,  that  Glen  has  cut  a  little 
longer  than  the  others,  and  nicked  with  a  swal 
low-tail,  looks  not  unlike  a  lance.  As  the  cool 
morning  air  whistles  past  him,  the  boy's  blood 
tingles,  his  eyes  sparkle,  and  he  wonders  if  there 
can  be  any  more  fascinating  business  in  the  world 
than  surveying  and  learning  to  become  an  engi 
neer.  He  thinks  of  the  mill  and  the  store  with 
scorn.  It  beats  them  away  out  of  sight,  any 
how. 

As  they  reach  the  crest  of  the  divide,  from 
which  they  can  see  far  away  on  all  sides,  Mr. 
Hobart,  using  his  field-glass  to  watch  the  move 
ments  of  "  Billy "  Brackett's  arms,  directs  Glen 
where  to  place  his  flag.  "Right — more — more 
— away  over  to  the  right — there — steady !  Left, 
a  little — steady — so !  Drive  a  stake  there !  Now 
hold  your  flag  on  it !  A  trifle  to  the  right — that's 
good !  Drive  the  tack !  Move  him  up — all  right, 
he's  coming !"  Then,  leaving  the  axeman  to  point 
out  the  stake,  just  driven,  to  the  transit-man,  the 
engineer  and  his  young  flagman  again  dash  for 
ward. 

"  Two  miles  in  thirty-eight  minutes !  That  is 
quick  work!  I  congratulate  you  and  your  di- 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  211 

vision,  Mr.  Hobart."  So  said  the  chief-engineer 
as  the  men  of  the  second  division,  dripping  with 
perspiration,  completed  their  first  run,  and,  turn 
ing  the  work  over  to  those  of  the  third,  took 
their  vacant  places  in  the  wagon  that  followed 
the  line. 

The  morning  sun  was  already  glowing  with 
heat,  and  by  noon  its  perpendicular  rays  were 
scorching  the  arid  plain  with  relentless  fury. 
Men  and  animals  alike  drooped  beneath  it,  but 
there  was  no  pause  in  the  work.  It  must  be 
rushed  through  in  spite  of  everything.  About 
noon  they  passed  a  large  buffalo  wallow,  half 
filled  with  stagnant  water,  that  the  animals  drank 
eagerly. 

That  evening,  when  it  was  too  dark  to  distin 
guish  the  cross-hairs  in  the  instruments,  the  weary 
engineers  knocked  off  work,  with  a  twenty-one- 
mile  survey  to  their  credit.  They  were  too  tired 
to  pitch  tents  that  night,  but  spread  their  blan 
kets  anywhere,  and  fell  asleep  almost  as  soon  as 
they  had  eaten  supper.  There  was  no  water, 
no  wood,  and  only  a  scanty  supply  of  sun-dried 
grass.  It  was  a  dry  camp. 

The  next  day  was  a  repetition  of  the  first. 
The  tired  animals,  suffering  from  both  hunger 
and  thirst,  dragged  the  heavy  wagons  wearily 
over  the  long  undulations  of  the  sun-baked  plain. 


Campmates. 

Occasionally  they  crossed  dry  water-courses ;  but 
at  sunset  they  had  not  found  a  drop  of  the  pre 
cious  fluid,  and  another  dry  camp  was  promised 
for  that  night. 

As  the  men  of  the  second  division  drove  the 
last  stake  of  another  twenty-one-mile  run,  and, 
leaving  the  line,  moved  slowly  in  the  direction 
of  camp,  the  mule  ridden  by  Binney  Gibbs  sud 
denly  threw  up  its  head,  sniffed  the  air,  and, 
without  regard  to  his  rider's  efforts  to  control 
him,  started  off  on  a  run. 

"Stop  us!  We  are  running  away!"  shouted 
Binney ;  and,  without  hesitation,  Glen  gave  spurs 
to  Nettle  and  dashed  away  in  pursuit. 

"  "What  scrape  are  those  young  scatter-brains 
going  to  get  into  now  ?"  growled  Mr.  Hobart. 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  "Billy"  Brackett; 
"  but  whatever  it  is  they  will  come  out  of  it  all 
right,  covered  with  mud  and  glory.  I  suppose  I 
might  as  well  begin  to  organize  the  rescuing- 
party,  though." 


CHAPTER  XXYII. 

"COVERED   WITH   MUD   AND   GLORY." 

As  "  Billy  "  Brackett  predicted  they  would,  the 
two  boys  did  return  to  camp  in  about  fifteen 
minutes,  covered  with  mud  and  glory.  At  least 
Binney  Gibbs  was  covered  with  mud,  and  they 
brought  the  glorious  news  that  there  were  sev 
eral  large  though  shallow  pools  of  water  not 
more  than  half  a  mile  away.  Binney's  mule  hav 
ing  scented  it,  there  was  no  stopping  him  until 
he  had  rushed  to  it,  and,  as  usual,  flung  his  rider 
over  his  head  into  the  very  middle  of  one  of  the 
shallow  ponds.  Glen  had  reached  the  place  just 
in  time  to  witness  this  catastrophe,  and  to  roar 
with  laughter  at  the  comical  sight  presented  by 
his  companion,  as  the  latter  waded  ruefully  from 
the  pond,  dripping  mud  and  water  from  every 
point. 

"You  take  to  water  as  naturally  as  a  young 
duck,  Binney  !"  he  shouted,  as  soon  as  his  laugh 
ter  gave  him  a  chance  for  words. 

"  No,  indeed,  I  don't "  sputtered  poor  Binney. 
"  But  somehow  water  always  seems  to  take  to 


Oampmates. 

me,  and  I  can  get  nearly  drowned  when  nobody 
else  can  find  a  drop  to  drink.  As  for  that  mule, 
I  believe  he  thinks  I  wouldn't  know  how  to  get 
off  his  back  if  he  didn't  pitch  me  off." 

In  less  than  a  minute  after  the  boys  got  back 
with  their  report  of  water,  half  the  men  in  camp 
were  hastening  towards  it,  and  the  entire  herd  of 
animals,  in  charge  of  a  couple  of  teamsters,  was 
galloping  madly  in  the  same  direction.  The 
ponds  were  the  result  of  a  heavy  local  rain  of 
the  night  before ;  and,  within  a  couple  of  days, 
would  disappear  in  the  sandy  soil  as  completely 
as  though  they  had  never  existed ;  but  they 
served  an  admirable  purpose,  and  the  whole 
party  was  grateful  to  Binney  Gibbs's  mule  for 
discovering  them. 

So  refreshed  were  the  men  by  their  unexpected 
bath,  and  so  strengthened  were  the  animals  by 
having  plenty  of  water  with  both  their  evening 
and  morning  meals,  that  the  survey  of  the  fol 
lowing  day  covered  twenty-four  miles.  It  was 
the  biggest  day's  work  of  transit  and  level  on 
record,  and  could  only  have  been  accomplished 
under  extraordinary  circumstances. 

This  was  the  hardest  day  of  the  three  to  bear. 
The  heat  of  the  sun,  shining  from  an  unclouded 
sky,  was  intolerable.  As  far  as  the  eye  could 
roach  there  was  no  shadow,  nor  any  object  to 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

break  the  terrible  monotony  of  its  glare.  A  hot 
wind  from  the  south  whirled  the  light  soil  aloft 
in  suffocating  clouds  of  dust.  The  men  of  the 
three  divisions  were  becoming  desperate.  They 
knew  that  this  killing  pace  could  not  be  main 
tained  much  longer,  and  the  twenty -four  mile 
run  was  the  result  of  a  tremendous  effort  to  reach 
the  Arkansas  Kiver  that  day. 

From  each  eminence,  as  they  crossed  it,  tele 
scope,  field-glasses,  and  straining  eyes  swept  the 
sky-line  in  the  hope  of  sighting  the  longed-for 
river.  Late  in  the  afternoon  some  far  away 
trees  and  a  ribbon  of  light  were  lifted  to  view 
against  the  horizon  by  the  shimmering  heat 
waves ;  but  this  was  at  once  pronounced  to  be 
only  the  tantalizing  vision  of  the  mirage. 

So,  in  a  dry  camp,  the  exhausted  men  and 
thirsty  animals  passed  the  night.  The  latter,  re 
fusing  to  touch  the  parched  grass  or  even  their 
rations  of  corn,  made  the  hours  hideous  with 
their  cries,  and  spent  their  time  in  vain  efforts 
to  break  their  fastenings  that  they  might  escape 
and  seek  to  quench  their  burning  thirst. 

But  even  this  night  came  to  an  end ;  and,  with 
the  first  eastern  streaks  of  pink  and  gold  so  ex 
quisitely  beautiful  through  the  rarefied  atmos 
phere  of  this  region,  the  surveyors  were  once 
more  in  the  field.  There  was  no  merriment  now, 


Campmates. 

nor  life  in  the  work.  It  went  on  amid  a  dogged 
silence.  The  transit  and  level  were  lifted  slowly, 
as  though  they  were  made  of  lead.  The  chain 
was  dragged  wearily  along  at  a  walk.  It  was 
evident  that  the  limit  of  endurance  was  nearly 
reached.  Scouts  were  sent  out  on  both  sides  to 
search  for  water.  There  was  no  use  sending 
anybody  ahead  to  hunt  up  that  mirage,  or  at 
least  so  thought  General  Lyle.  His  maps 
showed  the  river  to  be  miles  away;  but  they 
also  showed  a  large  creek,  not  far  to  the  west 
ward  ;  and  towards  this  the  hopes  of  the  party 
were  turned.  On  the  maps  it  was  called 
"  Sand  Creek,"  a  name  made  infamous  forever 
by  a  massacre  of  Indians,  mostly  women  and 
children,  that  took  place  on  its  banks  in  Novem 
ber,  1864.  Then  it  had  contained  water;  but 
now  it  was  true  to  its  name,  and  the  dispirited 
scouts,  returning  from  it,  reported  that  its  bed 
was  but  a  level  expanse  of  dry,  glistening  sand. 

As  this  report  was  being  made,  there  came  a 
quick  succession  of  shots  from  the  front,  and  a 
thrill  of  new  life  instantly  pervaded  the  whole 
party.  What  could  they  indicate,  if  not  good 
news  of  some  kind.  The  first  division  had  com 
pleted  its  two  miles,  and  the  second  was  running 
the  line.  "Billy"  Brackett  was  preparing  for 
one  of  his  famous  mile  sights  at  the  front  flag, 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  217 

with  which  Glen  Eddy,  riding  beside  Mr.  Hobart, 
was  wearily  toiling  up  a  distant  slope.  Gazing 
at  them  through  his  fine  telescope,  the  transit- 
man  could  not  at  first  understand  their  extraor 
dinary  actions  as  they  reached  the  top.  He 
saw  Glen  fling  up  his  hat,  and  Mr.  Hobart  fire 
his  pistol  into  the  air.  Then  Glen  waved  his  flag, 
while  the  division  engineer  seemed  to  be  point 
ing  to  something  in  front  of  them. 

"  Well,  quit  your  fooling  and  give  me  a  sight, 
can't  you?"  growled  "Billy"  Brackett  to  him 
self,  but  directly  afterwards  he  shouted  to  those 
near  him,  "  I  believe  they've  found  water,  and 
shouldn't  wonder  if  they'd  located  the  Arkan 
sas  itself.  Then  he  got  his  "  sight,"  waved  "  all 
right,"  mounted  his  mule,  shouldered  the  transit, 
and  galloped  away. 

He  was  right ;  they  had  located  the  Arkansas, 
and  the  alleged  mirage  of  the  evening  before  had 
been  a  reality  after  all.  That  night  of  suffering 
had  been  spent  within  five  miles  of  one  of  the 
largest  rivers  that  cross  the  Plains. 

As  Glen  and  Mr.  Hobart  reached  the  crest  of 
that  long  slope  they  saw  its  grassy  valley  out 
spread  before  them.  They  saw  the  scattered 
timber  lining  its  banks,  and,  best  of  all,  they  saw 
the  broad,  brown  flood  itself,  rolling  down  to 
join  the  distant  Mississippi.  By  shots  and  wav- 


918  Campmates. 

ings  they  tried  to  communicate  the  joyful  in- 
telligence  to  those  who  toiled  so  wearily  be 
hind  them,  and  "  Billy  "  Brackett,  watching  them 
through  his  transit,  had  understood. 

They  waited  on  the  ridge  until  he  joined 
them,  and  then  hastened  away  towards  the  tempt 
ing  river.  When  the  next  foresight  was  taken 
Glen's  flag  was  planted  on  the  edge  of  that 
famous  old  wagon-road  of  the  Arkansas  Yalley 
known  to  generations  of  Plainsmen  as  the  Santa 
Fe  Trail. 

Glen  had  hardly  waved  his  "  all  right "  to  the 
transit,  before  the  wagons  came  tearing  down  the 
slope  with  their  mules  on  the  keen  run.  The 
perishing  animals  had  seen  the  life-giving  waters, 
and  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  they 
were  restrained  from  rushing  into  the  river,  wag 
ons  and  all.  The  drivers  only  just  succeeded  in 
casting  loose  the  trace-chains,  when  each  team, 
with  outstretched  necks  and  husky  brayings, 
plunged  in  a  body  over  the  bank  and  into  the 
river,  burying  their  heads  up  to  their  eyes  in  the 
cooling  flood.  It  seemed  as  though  they  would 
drink  themselves  to  death,  and  when  they  finally, 
consented  to  leave  the  river  and  turn  their  atten 
tion  to  the  rich  grasses  of  its  bottom-lands,  they 
were  evidently  water-logged.  It  would  be  hours 
before  they  were  again  fit  for  work. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  219 

But  nobody  wanted  them  to  work.  Not  until 
the  next  morning  would  the  wagons  move  again. 
The  splendid  runs  of  the  last  three  days  had 
earned  a  rest  for  men  and  animals  alike.  So  it 
was  granted  them,  and  no  schoolboys  ever  en 
joyed  a  half -holiday  more.  What  a  luxury  it 
was  to  have  plenty  of  water  again,  not  only  to 
drink,  but  actually  to  wash  with  and  bathe  in ! 
And  to  lie  in  the  shade  of  a  tree !  Could  any 
thing  be  more  delicious  ? 

At  sunrise  the  line  was  resumed;  and,  still 
working  together,  the  three  divisions  ran  it  for 
fifty  miles  up  the  broad  valley  of  the  Arkansas. 

A  few  days  after  striking  the  river  they  passed 
Bent's  Fort,  one  of  the  most  famous  of  the  old 
Plains  trading -posts  built  by  individuals  long 
before  troops  were  sent  out  to  occupy  the  land. 
Its  usefulness  as  a  trading-station  had  nearly  de 
parted,  for  already  the  Indians  were  leaving  that 
part  of  the  country,  and  those  who  remained 
were  kept  too  busy  fighting  to  have  any  time  for 
trading.  Its  stout  log  stockade  was,  however, 
valuable  to  its  builder  as  a  protection  against 
attacks  from  Indians  led  by  one  of  his  own  sons. 
Their  mother  was  a  Cheyenne  squaw,  and  though 
they,  together  with  their  only  sister,  had  been 
educated  in  St.  Louis,  the  same  as  white  children, 
they  had  preferred  to  follow  the  fortunes  of  their 


880  Campmates. 

mother's  people  on  returning  to  the  Plains.  Now 
the  Cheyennes  had  no  more  daring  leader  than 
George  Bent,  nor  was  there  a  girl  in  the  tribe  so 
beautiful  as  his  sister.  The  little  fort,  admirably 
located  on  a  high  bluff  overlooking  the  river,  was 
filled  with  a  curious  mixture  of  old  Plainsmen, 
Indians,  half-breed  children,  ponies,  mules,  burros, 
and  pet  fawns.  It  was  a  place  of  noise  and  con 
fusion  at  once  bewildering  and  interesting. 

At  the  end  of  fifty  miles  from  the  point  at 
which  they  entered  the  Arkansas  Valley,  the  ex 
plorers  caught  their  first  glimpse  of  the  Kocky 
Mountains,  two  white  clouds  that  they  knew  to 
be  the  snow-capped  summits  of  the  Spanish  Peaks, 
a  hundred  miles  away. 

Here  the  expedition  was  divided.  The  first 
and  third  divisions  were  to  cross  the  river  and 
proceed  southwesterly,  by  way  of  the  Raton 
Mountains  and  Fort  Union,  to  Santa  Fe;  while 
Mr.  Hobart  was  to  take  the  second  still  farther 
up  the  Arkansas  Valley,  and  almost  due  west  to 
the  famous  Sangre  de  Cristo  Pass  through  the 
mountains,  just  north  of  the  Spanish  Peaks.  For 
two  weeks  longer  they  worked  their  way  slowly 
but  steadily  across  the  burning  Plains,  towards 
the  mountains  that  almost  seemed  to  recede  from 
them  as  they  advanced ;  though  each  day  dis 
closed  new  peaks,  while  those  already  familiar 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  881 

loomed  up  higher  and  grander  with  every  mile. 
Finally  they  were  so  near  at  hand  that  the 
weary  toilers,  choked  with  the  alkaline  dust  of 
the  Plains,  and  scorched  with  their  fervent  heat, 
could  feast  their  eyes  on  the  green  slopes,  cool, 
dark  valleys,  and  tumbling  cascades,  rushing 
down  from  glittering  snow-fields.  How  they 
longed  to  be  among  them,  and  with  what  joy 
did  they  at  length  leave  the  treeless  country  of 
which  they  were  so  tired  and  enter  the  timbered 
f oot-hills ! 

Now,  how  deliciously  cool  were  the  nights,  and 
how  they  enjoyed  the  roaring  camp-fires.  What 
breathless  plunges  they  took  in  ice-cold  streams 
of  crystal  water.  How  good  fresh  venison  tasted 
after  weeks  of  salt  bacon  and  dried  buffalo  meat, 
and  how  eagerly  they  ate  raw  onions,  and  even 
raw  potatoes,  obtained  at  the  occasional  Mexican 
ranches  found  nestled  here  and  there  in  the 
lower  valleys. 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  Glen  to  Binney  Gibbs,  who 
had  by  this  time  become  his  firm  friend,  "  it  pays 
to  go  without  fresh  vegetables  for  a  couple  of 
months,  just  to  find  out  what  fine  things  onions 
and  potatoes  are." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

LOST  IN  A  MOUNTAIN  SNOW-STORM. 

A  WEEK  was  spent  on  the  eastern  slope  of  the 
mountains,  running  lines  through  the  Mosca  and 
Cuchara  passes.  Finally,  a  camp  was  made  in 
a  forest  of  balsam-firs,  beside  a  great  spring  of 
ice-water,  that  bubbled  from  a  granite  basin  at 
the  summit  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo,  nine  thou 
sand  feet  above  sea-level.  To  Glen  and  Binney, 
who  had  always  dwelt  in  a  flat  country,  and 
knew  nothing  of  mountains,  this  was  a  new  and 
delightful  experience.  They  never  tired  of  gazing 
off  on  the  superb  panorama  outspread  below  them. 
To  the  east,  the  view  was  so  vast  and  boundless 
tnat  :lt  seemed  as  though  the  distant  blue  of  the 
horizon  must  be  that  of  the  ocean  itself,  and  that 
they  were  spanning  half  the  breadth  of  a  conti 
nent  in  a  single  sight.  At  their  feet  lay  the 
Plains  they  had  just  crossed,  like  a  great  green 
map  on  which  dark  lines  of  timber  and  gleams 
of  light  marked  the  Arkansas  and  its  tributary 
streams,  whose  waters  would  mingle  with  those 
of  the  Mississippi. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  £83 

On  the  other  hand,  they  could  see,  across  the 
broad  basin  of  the  San  Luis  Valley,  other  ranges 
of  unknown  mountains,  whose  mysteries  they 
were  yet  to  explore.  Through  this  western  val 
ley,  flowing  southward,  wound  the  shining  rib 
bon  of  the  Rio  Grande.  .Both  north  and  south 
of  them  were  mountain-peaks.  To  cnmb  to  the 
very  summit  of  one  of  these  was  Glen's  present 
ambition,  and  his  longing  eyes  were  turned  more 
often  to  the  snow-capped  dome  that  rose  in  sol 
emn  majesty  on  the  south  side  of  the  pass  than 
in  any  other  direction.  He  even  succeeded  in 
persuading  Binney  Gibbs  that  to  climb  that  moun 
tain  would  be  just  a  little  better  fun  than  any 
thing  else  that  could  be  suggested.  Stiii,  he  did 
not  see  any  prospect  of  their  being  allowed  to 
make  the  attempt,  and  so  tried  not  to  think 
of  it. 

On  the  first  evening,  after  camp  had  been 
pitched  on  the  summit  of  the  pass,  he  sat  on  a 
chunk  of  moss-covered  granite,  gazing  medita 
tively  into  the  glowing  coals  of  a  glorious  fire. 
He  imagined  he  had  succeeded  in  banishing  all 
thoughts  of  that  desirable  mountain-top  from  his 
mind,  and  yet,  all  of  a  sudden,  he  became  aware 
that  it  was  the  very  thing  he  was  thinking  of. 
He  gave  himself  a  petulant  shake  as  he  realized 
this,  and  was  about  to  move  away,  when  "  Billy" 


Campmates. 

Brackett,  who  sat  on  the  end  of  a  log  near  him, 
spoke  up  and  said, 

"Glen,  how  would  you  like  to  try  a  bit  of 
mountain  climbing  with  me  to-morrow  ?" 

"  I'd  like  it  better  than  anything  I  know  of," 
answered  the  boy,  eagerly. 

"  All  right,  it's  a  go,  then ;  you  see  the  chief 
is  going  off  on  an  exploration  with  the  topog 
rapher;  and,  as  we  can't  run  any  lines  till  he 
oomes  back,  he  asked  me  if  I'd  take  a  couple  of 
fellows  and  measure  the  height  of  that  peak." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  chain  from  here  away  up 
there  ?"  asked  Glen,  in  astonishment,  glancing 
dubiously  up  at  the  dim  form  towering  above 
them. 

"  Chain !  Not  much,  I  don't !"  laughed  Brack 
ett.  "  I  mean  carry  up  a  barometer,  and  meas 
ure  with  it." 

"  How  ?"  asked  Glen,  to  whom  this  was  a 
novel  idea. 

"  Easy  enough.  "We  know  that,  roughly  speak 
ing,  a  barometer  varies  a  little  less  than  one  tenth 
of  an  inch  with  every  hundred  feet  of  elevation. 
For  instance,  if  it  reads  21.22  where  we  now  are, 
it  will  read  21.14  a  hundred  feet  higher,  or  20.40 
at  an  elevation  of  a  thousand  feet  above  this. 
There  are  carefully  prepared  tables  showing  the 
exact  figures." 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

"Can't  you  do  it  by  boiling  water,  too?" 
asked  Binney  Gibbs,  who  had  approached  them 
unobserved,  and  was  an  interested  listener  of 
this  explanation. 

"  Certainly  you  can,"  answered  "  Billy  "  Brack- 
ett,  looking  up  with  some  surprise  at  the  young 
scholar.  "By  boiling  water  we  have  a  neat 
check  on  the  barometer ;  for,  on  account  of  the 
rarefication  of  the  air,  water  boils  at  one  degree 
less  of  temperature  for  about  every  five  hundred 
feet  of  elevation." 

"  Then  what  is  the  use  of  levelling  ?"  asked 
Glen. 

"  Because  these  figures  are  only  approximate, 
and  cannot  be  relied  upon  for  nice  work.  But 
where  did  you  learn  about  such  things,  Grip  ?" 

"  At  the  Brimfi eld  High  School,"  answered  Bin 
ney  with  some  confusion ;  for  he  Avas  not  really 
so  boastful  of  his  scholarship  as  he  had  once  been. 

"  Well,  how  would  you  like  to  join  our  climb 
ing-party  ?  I'm  going  to  take  Glen  along  for  his 
muscle,  and  I'll  take  you  for  your  brains  if  you 
want  to  go." 

"  I  think  I'd  like  to  try  it,  though  perhaps  I 
won't  be  able  to  get  to  the  very  top,"  answered 
Binney. 

The  modesty  that  this  boy  had  learned  from 
his  rough  Plains  experience  would  have  sur- 


Campmates. 

prised  his  Brimfield  acquaintances  could  they 
have  seen  it. 

"Yery  well,  then,  we  will  start  at  sunrise  in 
the  morning.  We'll  each  carry  a  hatchet,  a 
knife,  matches  in  water-tight  cases,  and  a  good 
bit  of  lunch.  I'll  carry  the  barometer,  Glen 
shall  take  charge  of  the  thermometer,  and  <  Grip' 
shall  bring  along  his  brains.  Now  I'd  advise 
you  both  to  turn  in,  and  lay  up  a  supply  of  rest 
sufficient  to  carry  you  through  a  harder  day's 
work  than  any  we've  done  on  this  trip  yet." 

The  sun  was  just  lifting  his  red  face  above  the 
distant  rim  of  the  Plains,  and  its  scant  beams 
were  bathing  the  snow-capped  peak  in  a  wonder 
ful  rosy  glow,  as  the  three  mountain  climbers 
left  camp  the  next  morning.  Each  one  bore  the 
light  weight  allotted  to  him,  and,  in  addition, 
Glen  carried  a  raw-hide  lariat  hung  over  his 
shoulders. 

Having  noted  the  compass  bearings  of  their 
general  course,  they  plunged  directly  into  the 
dense  fir  forest  with  which  this  flank  of  the 
mountain  was  covered  to  a  height  of  a  thousand 
feet  or  so  above  them.  For  several  hours  they 
struggled  through  it,  sometimes  clambering  over 
long  lanes  of  fallen  trees,  prostrated  by  fierce 
wind-storms,  and  piled  in  chaotic  heaps  so  thick 
ly  that  often,  for  half  a  mile  at  a  time,  their 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

feet  did  not  touch  the  ground.  Then  they  came 
to  a  region  of  enormous  granite  blocks,  ten  to 
thirty  feet  high,  over  many  of  which  they  were 
obliged  to  make  their  way  as  best  they  could. 
Now  they  began  to  find  patches  of  snow,  and 
the  timber  only  appeared  in  scattered  clumps. 

From  here  their  course  led  up  through  an  enor 
mous  gorge,  or  cleft,  that  grew  narrower  as  they 
ascended,  until  it  terminated  in  a  long,  steep 
slope  of  boulders  and  loose  rocks.  Here  they 
encountered  the  first  real  danger  of  the  ascent. 
Every  now  and  then  a  boulder,  that  appeared 
firmly  seated  until  burdened  with  the  weight  of 
one  of  them,  would  give  way  and  go  crashing 
and  thundering  down  with  great  leaps  behind 
them  until  lost  in  the  forest  below. 

It  was  noon  when  they  emerged  on  a  narrow, 
shelf-like  plateau  above  the  gorge.  Here  stood 
the  last  clump  of  stunted  trees.  Above  them 
stretched  the  glistening  snow-fields,  pierced  by 
crags  of  splintered  granite.  Kock,  ice,  and  snow- 
to  the  very  summit.  Here  Binney  said  he  could 
go  no  farther ;  and  here,  after  building  a  fire  and 
eating  their  lunch,  the  others  left  him  to  await 
their  return. 

A  sheer  wall  of  smooth,  seamless  rock,  hun 
dreds  of  feet  in  height,  bounded  one  side  of  the 
shelf,  and  a  precipice,  almost  as  sheer,  the  other. 


Campmates. 

For  half  a  mile  or  so  did  Glen  and  his  compan 
ion  follow  it,  seeking  some  place  at  which  they 
might  continue  their  ascent.  Finally  it  nar 
rowed  almost  to  a  point,  that  terminated  in  an 
immense  field  of  snow  sloping  down,  smooth  and 
spotless,  for  a  thousand  feet  below  them,  to  a 
tiny  blue-black  lake.  Beyond  the  snow-field  the 
ascent  seemed  possible;  and,  by  cutting  foot- 
holes  in  it  with  their  hatchets,  they  managed 
to  cross  it  in  safety. 

For  two  hours  longer  they  struggled  upward ; 
and  then,  within  a  few  hundred  feet  of  the  sum 
mit,  they  could  get  no  farther.  In  vain  did  they 
try  every  point  that  offered  the  faintest  hope  of 
success,  and  at  last  were  forced  to  give  it  up. 
They  noted  the  reading  of  the  barometer,  and 
with  a  few  shavings  and  slivers  cut  from  its  out 
side  case  they  made  a  tiny  blaze,  and,  as  Glen 
expressed  it,  boiled  a  thermometer  in  a  tin  cup. 

They  were  now  as  impatient  to  descend  as  they 
had  been  to  climb  upward,  and  even  more  so; 
for  the  brightness  of  the  day  had  departed,  and 
ominous  clouds  were  gathering  about  them.  The 
air  was  bitterly  cold ;  and,  with  their  few  min 
utes'  cessation  from  violent  exercise,  they  were 
chilled  to  the  bone.  So  they  hastened  to  retrace 
their  rugged  way,  sliding,  leaping,  hanging  by 
their  hands,  and  dropping  from  ledge  to  ledge. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

taking  frightful  risks  in  their  eagerness  to  es 
cape  the  threatened  storm,  or  at  any  rate  to  meet 
it  in  some  more  sheltered  spot.  If  they  could 
only  reach  the  shelf -like  ledge,  at  the  farther 
end  of  which  Binney  Gibbs  awaited  them,  they 
would  feel  safe.  They  had  nearly  done  so,  but 
not  quite,  when  the  storm  burst  upon  them  in  a 
fierce,  blinding,  whirling  rush  of  snow,  that  took 
away  their  breath  and  stung  like  needles.  It 
seemed  to  penetrate  their  clothing.  It  bewil 
dered  them.  It  was  so  dense  that  they  could 
not  see  a  yard  ahead  of  them.  They  had  al 
ready  started  to  cross  that  long,  sloping  snow- 
field,  beyond  which  lay  the  rocky  shelf.  To  go 
back  would  be  as  dangerous  as  to  proceed.  They 
could  not  stay  where  they  were.  The  deadly 
chill  of  the  air  would  speedily  render  them  in 
capable  of  maintaining  their  foothold. 

The  assistant  engineer  was  leading  the  way, 
with  his  companion  a  full  rod  behind  him.  The 
former  dared  not  turn  his  head ;  but  he  shouted 
encouragingly  that  they  were  almost  across,  and 
with  a  few  more  steps  would  reach  a  place  of 
safety. 

Then  came  a  swirling,  shrieking  blast,  before 
which  he  bowed  his  head.  He  thought  he  heard 
a  cry ;  but  could  not  tell.  It  might  only  have 
been  the  howl  of  the  fierce  wind.  He  reached 

16 


Campmates. 

the  shelf  of  rock  in  safety,  and  turned  to  look 
for  his  companion ;  but  Glen  was  not  to  be  seen. 
Blinded  by  that  furious  blast,  the  boy  had 
missed  his  footing.  The  next  instant  he  was 
sliding,  helplessly,  and  with  frightful  velocity, 
down  that  smooth  slope  of  unyielding  snow,  tow 
ards  the  blue  lake  hidden  in  the  storm-cloud  far 
beneath  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

PLUNGING  INTO   A  LAKE    OF   ICE-WATER. 

As  "Billy"  Brackett  turned  and  missed  the 
companion  whom  he  supposed  was  close  behind 
him,  his  heart  sank  like  lead.  In  vain  did  he 
shout.  Not  even  an  echo  answered  him.  His 
loudest  tones  were  snatched  from  his  lips  by  the 
wind,  torn  into  fragments,  and  indistinguishably 
mingled  with  its  mocking  laughter.  It  was  bare 
ly  possible  that  Glen  might  have  turned  back ; 
and,  with  the  slender  hope  thus  offered,  the  en 
gineer  retraced  his  perilous  way  across  the  snow- 
field  to  the  place  where  they  last  stood  together. 
It  was  empty  and  awful  in  its  storm-swept  lone 
liness.  A  great  terror  seized  hold  upon  the 
man's  stout  heart ;  and,  as  he  again  crossed  the 
treacherous  snow,  he  trembled  so  that  his  reach 
ing  the  rocky  shelf  beyond  was  little  short  of  a 
miracle. 

Then  he  hastened  to  the  place  where  Binney 
Gibbs  anxiously  awaited  the  return  of  his  friends. 
He  had  kept  up  a  roaring  fire,  knowing  that  it 
would  be  a  welcome  sight  to  them,  especially 


Campmates. 

since  the  setting-in  of  the  storm.  Its  coming  had 
filled  him  with  anxiety  and  uneasy  forebodings, 
so  that  he  hailed  "  Billy  "  Brackett's  appearance 
with  a  glad  shout  of  welcome.  It  died  on  his 
lips  as  he  noted  the  expression  on  the  engineer's 
face ;  and,  with  a  tremble  of  fear  in  his  voice,  he 
asked,  "  Where  is  Glen  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  he  is  lost  on  the  moun 
tain  in  this  storm  ?"  cried  Binney,  aghast  at  the 
terrible  possibilities  thus  suggested. 

"Not  only  that,  but  I  have  not  the  faintest 
hope  that  he  will  ever  be  found  again,"  replied 
the  other ;  and  then  he  told  all  he  knew  of  what 
had  happened. 

Although,  for  their  own  safety,  they  should 
already  be  hurrying  towards  camp,  Binney  insist 
ed  on  going  to  the  place  where  his  friend  had 
last  been  seen.  The  snow-squall  had  passed 
when  they  reached  it,  but  the  clouds  still  hung 
thick  about  them ;  and  Binney  shuddered  as  he 
saw  the  smooth  white  slide  that  vanished  in  the 
impenetrable  mist  but  a  few  rods  below  them. 
In  vain  they  shouted.  In  vain  they  fired  every 
shot  contained  in  the  only  pistol  they  had  brought 
with  them.  There  was  no  answer.  And,  finally, 
without  a  hope  that  they  would  ever  see  Glen 
Eddy  again,  they  sadly  retraced  their  steps  and 


A  Story  of  the  Plows. 

reached  camp  just  as  the  complete  darkness,  that 
would  have  rendered  their  farther  progress  im 
possible,  shut  in. 

No  one  was  more  loved  in  that  camp  than 
Glen,  and  no  loss  from  the  party  could  have 
been  more  keenly  felt.  It  was  with  heavy  hearts 
that  they  sought  their  blankets  that  night ;  and, 
the  next  evening,  when  the  search-party,  that 
had  been  out  all  day  without  finding  the  faintest 
trace  of  the  missing  boy,  returned,  they  talked 
of  him  in  low  tones  as  of  one  who  had  gone  from 
them  forever. 

The  following  morning  the  camp  in  the  pass 
was  broken,  and  two  days  later  a  line  had  been 
run  down  the  western  slope  of  the  mountains,  to 
the  edge  of  the  San  Luis  Valley,  near  Fort  Gar 
land — one  of  the  most  charmingly  located  mili 
tary  posts  of  the  West. 

In  the  meantime  Glen  Eddy  was  not  only 
alive  and  well,  but,  at  the  very  minute  his  com 
panions  were  approaching  Fort  Garland  he  was 
actually  assisting  to  prepare  the  quarters  of  its 
commandant  for  a  wedding  that  was  to  take 
place  in  them  that  evening. 

For  a  moment,  after  he  missed  his  foothold  on 
the  upper  edge  of  the  treacherous  snow-field,  and 
began  to  shoot  down  the  smooth  surface  of  its 
long  slope,  he  imagined  that  he  was  about  to  be 


234  Campmates. 

dashed  in  pieces,  and  resigned  all  hope  of  escape 
from  the  fearful  peril  that  had  so  suddenly  over 
taken  him.  Then  the  thought  of  the  blue-black 
lake,  with  its  walls  of  purple  and  red-stained 
granite,  that  he  had  seen  lying  at  the  foot  of  this 
very  slope,  flashed  into  his  mind.  A  thrill  shot 
through  him  as  he  thought  of  the  icy  plunge  he 
was  about  to  take.  Still,  that  was  better  than  to 
be  hurled  over  a  precipice.  The  boy  had  even 
sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  hold  his  feet  close 
together,  and  attempt  to  guide  himself  so  that 
they  should  strike  the  water  first. 

He  might  have  glided  down  that  slope  for  sec 
onds,  or  minutes,  or  even  hours,  for  all  that  he 
knew  of  the  passage  of  time.  He  seemed  to  be 
moving  with  great  speed,  and  yet,  in  breathless 
anticipation  of  the  inevitable  plunge  that,  in 
fancy,  he  felt  himself  to  be  taking  with  each  in 
stant,  his  downward  flight  seemed  indefinitely 
prolonged. 

At  length  the  suspense  was  ended.  Almost 
with  the  quickness  of  thought  the  boy  passed 
into  a  region  of  dazzling  sunlight,  was  launched 
into  space,  and  found  himself  sinking  down, 
down,  down,  as  though  he  would  never  stop, 
in  water  so  cold  that  its  chill  pierced  him  like 
knives,  and  compressed  his  head  as  with  a  band 
of  iron. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  235 

Looking  up  through  the  crystal  sheet,  he  could 
see  an  apparently  endless  line  of  bubbles  rising 
from  where  he  was  to  the  surface,  and,  after  a 
while,  he  began  to  follow  them.  "With  a  breath 
less  gasp  he  again  reached  the  blessed  air,  and, 
dashing  the  water  from  his  eyes,  began  to  con 
sider  his  situation.  He  was  dazed  and  bewildered 
at  finding  himself  still  alive  and  apparently  none 
the  worse  for  his  tremendous  slide.  Although 
he  was  in  bright  sunlight,  the  mountain-side 
down  which  he  had  come  was  hidden  beneath 
dense  folds  of  cloud,  out  of  which  he  seemed  to 
have  dropped. 

Gently  paddling  with  his  hands,  just  enough 
to  keep  himself  afloat,  Glen  looked  anxiously 
about  for  some  beach  or  other  place  at  which  he 
might  effect  a  landing,  but  could  discover  none. 
The  upper  edge  of  the  snow-field,  that  bounded 
the  lake  on  one  side,  projected  far  over  the  water, 
so  that,  while  he  might  swim  under  it,  there  was 
no  possibility  of  getting  on  it.  On  all  other  sides 
sheer  walls  of  rock  rose  from  the  water,  without 
a  trace  of  beach,  or  even  of  boulders,  at  their 
base. 

In  all  this  solid  wall  there  was  but  one  break. 
Not  far  from  where  Glen  swam,  and  just  beyond 
the  snow-field,  a  narrow  cleft  appeared ;  and  from 
it  came  an  indistinct  roar  of  waters.  Glen  felt 


836  Campmates. 

himself  growing  numbed  and  powerless.  He 
must  either  give  up  at  once,  and  tamely  allow 
himself  to  sink  where  he  was,  or  he  must  swim 
to  that  cleft,  and  take  his  chances  of  getting  out 
through  it.  He  fully  expected  to  find  a  water 
fall  just  beyond  the  gloomy  portal,  and  he  clear 
ly  realized  what  his  fate  would  be  if  it  were  there. 
But  whatever  he  did  must  be  done  quickly.  He 
knew  that,  and  began  to  swim  towards  the  cleft. 

As  he  approached  it,  he  felt  himself  impelled 
onward  by  a  gentle  current  that  grew  stronger 
with  each  moment.  Now  he  could  not  go  back 
if  he  would.  He  passed  between  two  lofty  walls 
of  rock,  and,  instead  of  dashing  over  a  waterfall, 
was  borne  along  by  a  swift,  smooth  torrent  that 
looked  black  as  ink  in  the  gloom  of  its  mysteri 
ous  channel. 

Ere  the  swimmer  had  traversed  more  than  fifty 
yards  of  this  dim  waterway,  the  channel  turned 
sharply  to  the  left,  and  the  character  of  the  lower 
portion  of  its  wall,  on  that  side,  changed  from  a 
precipice  to  a  slope.  In  another  moment  Glen's 
feet  touched  bottom,  and  he  was  slowly  dragging 
his  numbed  and  exhausted  body  ashore. 

Although  the  sun  was  still  shining  on  the 
mountain-side,  far  above  him,  it  was  already 
twilight  where  he  was,  and  he  had  no  desire 
to  explore  that  stream  farther  in  darkness.  It 


A  Story  of  ike  Plains.  237 

would  be  bad  enough  by  daylight.  In  fact,  he 
was  so  thankful  to  escape  from  that  icy  water 
that,  had  the  light  been  increasing  instead  of 
waning  at  that  moment,  he  would  probably  have 
lingered  long  on  those  blessed  rocks  before  tempt 
ing  it  further. 

Now,  as  he  gazed  about  him  in  search  of  some 
place  in  which,  or  on  which,  to  pass  the  long 
hours  of  darkness,  his  eye  fell  on  a  confused  pile 
of  driftwood  not  far  away.  Here  was  a  prize 
indeed.  He  had  matches,  and,  thanks  to  "  Billy" 
Brackett,  they  were  still  dry.  Now  he  could 
have  a  fire.  He  found  the  driftwood  to  be  a 
mass  of  branches  and  tree-trunks,  bleached  to  the 
whiteness  of  bones,  and  evidently  brought  down 
by  some  much  higher  water  than  the  present. 
They  were  lodged  in  the  mouth  of  a  deep  water- 
worn  hollow  in  the  rock,  and  converted  a  certain 
portion  of  it  into  a  sort  of  a  cave.  Creeping  in 
behind  this  wooden  wall  of  gnarled  roots,  twisted 
branches,  and  splintered  trunks,  the  shivering  boy 
felt  for  his  hatchet ;  but  it  had  disappeared.  His 
knife  still  remained  in  its  sheath,  however,  and 
with  it  he  finally  managed,  though  with  great 
difficulty  on  account  of  the  numbness  of  his 
hands,  to  cut  off  a  little  pile  of  slivers  and  shav 
ings  from  a  bit  of  pine. 

In  another  moment  the  cave  was  illumined 


$38  '  Cam/pmates. 

with  a  bright  glow  from  one  of  his  precious 
matches,  and  a  tiny  flame  was  creeping  up 
through  the  handful  of  kindling.  With  careful 
nursing  and  judicious  feeding  the  little  flame 
rapidly  increased  in  strength  and  brightness,  un 
til  it  was  lighting  the  whole  place  with  its  cheer 
ful  glow,  and  was  leaping,  with  many  cracklings, 
through  the  entire  mass  of  driftwood. 

Before  starting  that  fire,  it  seemed  to  Glen 
that  no  amount  of  heat  could  be  unwelcome,  or 
that  he  could  ever  be  even  comfortably  warm 
again.  He  discovered  his  mistake,  however, 
when  he  was  finally  forced  to  abandon  his  cave 
entirely,  and  seek  refuge  in  the  open  air  from 
the  intense  heat  with  which  it  was  filled.  Not 
until  his  pile  of  wood  had  burned  down  to  a  bed 
of  glowing  coals  could  he  return. 

His  couch  that  night  was  certainly  a  hard  one, 
but  it  was  as  warm  and  dry  as  a  boy  could  wish. 
If  he  only  had  something  to  eat !  But  he  had 
not ;  so  he  went  to  sleep  instead,  and  slept  sound 
ly  until  daylight — which  meant  about  an  hour 
after  sunrise  in  the  world  beyond  that  narrow 
caflon. 

If  he  was  hungry  the  night  before,  how  raven 
ous  he  was  in  the  morning.  He  even  cut  off  a 
bit  of  the  rawhide  lariat  which  he  still  retained, 
and  tried  to  chew  it.  It  was  so  very  unsatisfac- 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  289 

tory  a  morsel  that  it  helped  him  to  realize  the 
necessity  of  speedily  getting  out  of  that  place 
and  hunting  for  some  food  more  nourishing  than 
lariats. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

DOWN  THE  LONELY  CA^ON. 

GLEN  had  been  conscious,  ever  since  reaching 
his  haven,  of  a  dull,  distant  roar  coming  up  from 
the  canon  below  him ;  and  now,  after  an  hour 
of  scrambling,  climbing,  slipping,  but  still  man 
aging  to  keep  out  of  the  water,  he  discovered  the 
fall  that  he  had  anticipated,  and  found  himself 
on  its  brink.  It  was  a  direct  plunge  of  a  hundred 
feet,  and  the  body  of  water  very  nearly  occu 
pied  the  whole  of  a  narrow  chasm  between  two 
cliffs  similar  to  those  at  the  outlet  of  the  lake. 
A  few  feet  of  the  rocky  dam,  where  Glen  stood, 
were  bare  of  water;  but  its  face  fell  away  as 
steep  and  smooth  as  that  over  which  the  stream 
took  its  plunge.  Only,  in  the  angle  formed  by 
it  and  the  side  of  the  canon,  a  mass  of  debris 
had  collected  that  reached  about  half-way  up  to 
where  Glen  stood,  or  to  within  fifty  feet  of  the 
brink.  On  it  grew  a  few  stunted  trees,  the  first 
vegetation  he  had  seen  since  taking  his  slide. 
Below  that  place  the  way  seemed  more  open, 
and  as  though  it  might  be  possible  to  traverse. 


A  /Story  of  the  Plains. 

But  how  should  he  get  down?  He  dared  not 
leap ;  he  could  not  fly.  But  he  still  had  the  lar 
iat.  It  was  forty  feet  long.  If  he  could  only 
fasten  it  where  he  stood,  he  might  slide  down  its 
length  and  then  drop. 

Vainly  he  searched  for  some  projecting  point 
of  rock  about  which  to  make  his  rope  fast.  There 
was  none.  All  was  smooth  and  water -worn. 
There  was  a  crack.  If  he  only  had  a  stout  bit 
of  wood  to  thrust  into  it  he  might  fasten  the  lar 
iat  to  that.  But  he  had  not  seen  the  smallest 
stick  since  leaving  his  sleeping-place.  Some  un- 
burned  branches  were  still  left  there;  but  the 
idea  of  going  back  over  that  perilous  road,  through 
the  gloom  of  the  cafion,  was  most  unpleasant  to 
contemplate.  He  hated  to  consider  it.  Still,  be 
fore  long  it  would  be  much  more  unpleasant  to 
remain  where  he  was,  for  he  was  already  realiz 
ing  the  first  pangs  of  starvation. 

So  he  wearily  retraced  his  steps,  procured  a 
stout  branch,  and,  after  two  hours  of  the  most 
arduous  toil,  again  stood  on  the  brink  of  the  wa 
terfall.  Forcing  the  stick  as  far  as  possible  into 
the  crack,  and  wedging  it  firmly  with  bits  of  rock, 
he  attached  the  raw-hide  rope  to  it,  and  flung  the 
loose  end  over  the  precipice.  Then,  hanging  over 
the  edge,  he  grasped  the  rope  firmly  and  slowly 
slid  down.  As  he  reached  the  end  he  hesitated 


Ccvmpmates. 

for  a  moment,  and  glanced  below.  His  feet  dan 
gled  on  a  level  with  the  top  of  the  upmost  tree. 
He  dreaded  to  drop,  but  there  was  nothing  else 
to  do,  and  the  next  moment  he  was  rolling  and 
scrambling  in  the  loose  gravel  and  rounded  peb 
bles  of  the  heap  of  debris.  At  last  he  brought 
up  against  a  tree-trunk,  bruised  and  shaken,  but 
with  unbroken  bones. 

He  had  now  overcome  the  most  difficult  part 
of  his  hazardous  trip ;  and,  though  the  way  was 
still  so  rough  as  to  demand  the  exercise  of  the 
utmost  care  and  skill  and  the  use  of  every  ounce 
of  strength  he  possessed,  it  presented  no  obsta 
cles  that  these  could  not  surmount. 

Finally,  some  time  in  the  afternoon,  he  came 
to  a  narrow  strip  of  meadow-land,  where  flow 
ers  were  blooming  amid  the  grass,  and  on  which 
warm  sunlight  was  streaming.  Here,  too,  he 
found  a  few  blueberries,  which  he  ate  ravenously. 
"What  should  he  do  for  something  more  substan 
tial?  He  was  close  beside  the  stream,  which 
here  flowed  quietly,  with  pleasant  ripplings, 
when  he  was  startled  by  a  splash  in  it.  It  must 
have  been  a  fish  jumping.  Why  had  he  not 
thought  of  fish  before?  How  should  he  catch 
them? 

Necessity  is  the  best  sharpener  of  wits,  and, 
in  less  than  half  an  hour,  Glen  was  fishing  with  a 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

line  made  of  fibres  from  the  inner  skin  of  spruce 
bark,  a  hook  formed  of  a  bent  pin,  baited  with  a 
grasshopper,  and  the  whole  attached  to  a  crooked 
bit  of  branch.  Not  only  was  he  fishing,  but  he 
was  catching  the  most  beautiful  brook-trout  he 
had  ever  seen  almost  as  fast  as  he  could  re-bait 
and  cast  his  rude  tackle.  There  was  no  art  re 
quired.  Nobody  had  ever  fished  in  these  waters 
before,  and  the  trout  were  apparently  as  eager 
to  be  caught  as  he  was  to  catch  them. 

Glen  had  not  neglected  to  light  a  fire  before 
he  began  his  fishing,  and  by  the  time  half  a  dozen 
of  the  dainty  little  fellows  were  caught  a  fine  bed 
of  hot  coals  was  awaiting  them.  The  boy  knew 
very  little  of  the  art  of  cooking,  but  what  he  did 
know  was  ample  for  the  occasion.  His  fish  were 
speedily  cleaned,  laid  on  the  coals  for  a  minute, 
turned,  left  a  minute  longer,  and  eaten.  When 
the  first  half-dozen  had  disappeared  he  caught 
more,  and  treated  them  in  the  same  way.  He  had 
no  salt,  no  condiments,  no  accessories  of  any  kind, 
save  the  sauce  of  a  hunger  closely  allied  to  star 
vation;  but  that  supplied  everything.  It  ren 
dered  that  feast  of  half -cooked  brook-trout  the 
most  satisfactory  meal  he  had  ever  eaten. 

"When,  at  last,  his  hunger  was  entirely  appeased, 
the  sun  had  set,  and  another  night  without  shel 
ter  or  human  companionship  was  before  him; 


$44  Ca/mpmates. 

but  what  did  he  care?  As  he  lay  in  front  of 
his  fire,  on  an  elastic,  sweet-scented  bed  of  small 
spruce  boughs,  with  a  semicircle  of  larger  ones 
planted  in  the  ground  behind  him,  and  their  feath 
ery  tips  drooping  gracefully  above  his  head,  he 
was  as  happy  and  well-content  as  ever  in  his  life. 
He  had  conquered  the  wilderness,  escaped  from 
one  of  its  most  cunningly  contrived  prison-houses, 
and  won  from  it  the  means  of  satisfying  his  im 
mediate  wants.  He  enjoyed  a  glorious  feeling 
of  triumph  and  independence.  To  be  sure,  he 
had  no  idea  of  where  he  was,  nor  where  the 
stream  would  lead  him ;  but  he  had  no  intention 
of  deserting  it.  He  realized  that  his  safest  plan 
was  to  follow  it.  Eventually  it  must  lead  him 
to  the  Eio  Grande,  and  there  he  would  surely  be 
able  to  rejoin  his  party,  if  he  did  not  find  them 
sooner. 

He  was  in  no  hurry  to  leave  the  pleasant  strip 
of  flower-strewn  meadow  the  next  morning,  nor 
did  he,  until  he  had  caught  and  eaten  a  hearty 
breakfast,  and  laid  in  a  supply  of  trout  for  at 
least  one  more  meal. 

The  third  night  found  him  still  on  the  bank 
of  his  stream,  which  was  flowing  happily,  with 
many  a  laugh  and  gurgle,  through  a  narrow  but 
wonderfully  beautiful  valley,  carpeted  with  a  lux 
uriant  growth  of  grass  and  dotted  with  clumps  of 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

cedars.  For  this  night's  camp  he  constructed  a 
rude  hut  of  slender  poles  and  branches,  similar  to 
the  Indian  wick-i-ups  he  had  seen  on  the  Plains. 
In  it  he  slept  on  a  bed  high  heaped  with  soft 
grasses  and  cedar  twigs  that  was  a  perfect  cradle 
of  luxury. 

As  Glen  emerged  from  his  hut  at  sunrise  he 
was  almost  as  startled  at  seeing  a  herd  of  several 
black-tailed  (mule)  deer,  feeding  within  a  hundred 
feet  of  him,  as  they  were  to  see  him.  Pausing 
for  a  good  stare  at  him,  for  the  black-tailed  deer 
is  among  the  most  inquisitive  animals  in  the 
world,  they  bounded  away  with  tremendous 
leaps,  and  disappeared  behind  a  cedar  thicket. 
A  minute  later  Glen  was  again  startled;  this 
time  by  the  report  of  a  rifle  from  some  distance 
down  the  valley.  He  had  just  been  wishing  for 
his  own  rifle,  the  sight  of  deer  having  suggested 
that  venison  would  be  a  very  pleasant  change 
from  a  steady  fish  diet,  and  now  he  hurried  away 
in  the  direction  of  the  shot. 

He  walked  nearly  half  a  mile  before  coming 
so  suddenly  upon  the  hunter  who  had  fired  that 
shot,  and  was  now  engaged  in  dressing  one  of 
those  very  black-tailed  deer,  that  the  latter  dis 
covered  him  at  the  same  moment,  and  paused  in 
his  work  to  examine  the  new-comer  keenly.  He 
was  a  man  past  middle  age,  squarely  built,  of 


Campmates. 

medium  height,  and,  as  he  stood  up,  Glen  saw 
that  he  was  somewhat  bow-legged.  Rig  hair 
was  thin  and  light  in  color,  and  his  face  was 
beardless.  It  was  seamed  and  weather-beaten, 
the  cheek-bones  were  high  and  prominent,  and 
the  keen  eyes  were  gray.  He  was  dressed  in  a 
complete  hunting-suit  of  buckskin,  and  the  rifle, 
lying  beside  him,  was  of  an  old-fashioned,  long- 
barrelled,  muzzle  -  loading  pattern.  He  looked 
every  inch,  what  he  really  was,  a  typical  Plains 
man  of  the  best  kind,  possessed  of  an  honest, 
kindly  nature,  brave  and  just,  a  man  to  be  feared 
by  an  enemy  and  loved  by  a  friend.  He  gazed 
earnestly  at  Glen  as  the  latter  walked  up  to  him, 
though  neither  by  look  nor  by  word  did  he  be 
tray  any  curiosity. 

"  I  don't  know  who  you  are,  sir,"  said  the  boy, 
"  but  I  know  I  was  never  more  glad  to  see  any 
body  in  my  life,  for  I've  been  wandering  alone 
in  these  mountains  for  three  days." 

"  Lost  ?"  asked  the  other,  laconically. 

"  Well,  not  exactly  lost,"  replied  Glen.  Then, 
as  clearly  and  briefly  as  possible,  he  related  his 
story,  which  the  other  followed  with  close  atten 
tion  and  evident  interest. 

"  You  did  have  a  close  call,  and  you've  had  a 
blind  trail  to  follow  since,  for  a  fact.  It  sorter 
looks  as  though  you'd  showed  sand,  and  I  shouldn't 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

wonder  if  you  was  the  right  stuff  to  make  a  man 
of,"  said  the  hunter,  approvingly,  when  the  re 
cital  was  ended.  "  How  old  are  you  ?" 

"I  think  I  am  about  sixteen,"  answered  the 
boy. 

"  Just  the  age  I  was  when  I  first  crossed  the 
Mississip  and  struck  for  this  country,  where 
Fve  been  ever  since.  What  are  you  going  to  do 
now?" 

"  I'm  going  to  ask  you  to  give  me  a  slice  of 
that  venison  for  my  breakfast,  and  then  tell  me 
the  best  way  to  rejoin  my  party,"  answered 
Glen. 

"  Of  course  I'll  give  you  all  the  deer-meat  you 
can  eat,  and  we'll  have  it  broiling  inside  of  five 
minutes.  Then,  if  you'll  come  along  with  me  to 
the  fort,  I  reckon  we'll  find  your  outfit  there ; 
or,  if  they  ain't,  the  commandant  will  see  to  it 
that  you  do  find  them.  You  know  him,  don't 
you?" 

"  No,  I  don't  even  know  who  he  is.  What  is 
his  name  ?" 

This  question  seemed,  for  some  reason,  to 
amuse  the  hunter  greatly,  and  he  laughed  si 
lently  for  a  moment  before  replying :  "  His  name 
is,  rightly,  '  Colonel  Carson,'  and  since  he's  got 
command  of  a  fort  they've  given  him  the  title 
of  l  General  Carson ;'  but  all  the  old  Plainsmen 


Campmates. 

and  mountainm en  that's  travelled  with  him  since 
he  was  your  age  call  him  6  Kit  Carson/  or  just 
<  Old  Kit.'  Perhaps  you've  heard  teU  of  him  ?" 

Indeed,  Glen  had  heard  of  the  most  famous 
scout  the  Western  Plains  ever  produced;  and, 
with  the  prospect  of  actually  seeing  and  speak 
ing  to  him,  he  felt  amply  repaid  for  his  recent 
trials  and  sufferings. 


CHAPTEE  XXXI. 

KIT  CARSON'S  GOLD  MINE. 

WHILE  the  hunter  was  talking  to  Glen,  he  was 
also  preparing  some  slices  of  venison  for  broiling, 
and  lighting  a  small  fire.  Anxious  to  be  of  use, 
as  well  as  to  have  breakfast  as  soon  as  possible, 
the  boy  set  about  collecting  wood  for  the  fire. 
This,  by  the  hunter's  advice,  he  broke  and  split 
into  sniall  pieces,  that  it  might  the  sooner  be  re 
duced  to  coals ;  and,  while  he  was  doing  this,  he 
told  his  new  friend  of  his  experience  in  cooking 
trout. 

"I  reckon  that  was  better  than  eating  them 
raw,"  said  the  latter,  with  an  amused  smile,  "  but 
if  we  had  some  now,  I  think  I  could  show  you 
a  better  way  than  that  to  cook  them,  though  we 
haven't  got  any  fry-pan." 

"  Perhaps  I  can  catch  some,"  suggested  Glen, 
pulling  his  rude  fishing-tackle  from  his  pocket,  as 
he  looked  about  for  some  sort  of  a  pole.  "  And 
I  think  I  could  do  it  quicker  if  you  would  lend 
me  your  hat  for  a  few  minutes.  You  see  mine 
got  lost  while  I  was  coasting  down  that  mono- 


$50  Campmates. 

tain-side,  or  in  the  lake,  I  don't  know  which,"  he 
added,  apologetically. 

Here  the  hunter  actually  laughed  aloud.  "  You 
don't  expect  to  catch  trout  with  a  hat,  do  you  ?" 
he  asked. 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed.  I  only  want  it  to  catch  grass 
hoppers  with.  It's  such  slow  work  catching  them, 
one  at  a  time,  with  your  hands ;  but,  with  a  hat 
as  big  as  yours,  I  could  get  a  great  many  very 
quickly,"  and  the  boy  gazed  admiringly  at  the 
broad-brimmed  sombrero  worn  by  the  other. 

The  stranger  willingly  loaned  his  hat  to  Glen, 
who  seemed  to  amuse  him  greatly,  and  the  lat 
ter  soon  had,  not  only  all  the  grasshoppers  he 
wanted,  but  a  fine  string  of  fish  as  well.  By 
this  time  the  fire  had  produced  a  bed  of  coals, 
and  the  slices  of  venison,  spitted  on  slender  sticks 
thrust  into  the  ground,  so  as  to  be  held  just 
above  them,  were  sending  forth  most  appetizing 
odors. 

Obeying  instructions,  Glen  cleaned  his  fish, 
and  gathered  a  quantity  of  grass,  which  he  wet 
in  the  stream.  The  hunter  had  scooped  out  a 
shallow  trench  in  the  earth  beside  the  fire,  and 
had  filled  it  with  live  coals.  Above  these  he  now 
spread  a  layer  of  damp  grass,  on  which  he  laid 
the  fish,  covering  them  in  turn  with  another  layer 
of  grass.  Over  this  he  raked  a  quantity  of  red- 


A  Story  of  the  Plams. 

hot  embers,  and  then  covered  the  whole  with  a 
few  handfuls  of  earth. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  trout  were  found  to  be 
thoroughly  cooked,  and  Glen  was  both  think 
ing  and  saying  that  no  fish  had  ever  tasted  so 
good.  After  eating  this  most  satisfactory  break 
fast,  and  having  hung  the  carcase  of  the  deer  to 
a  branch  where  it  would  be  beyond  the  reach  of 
wolves  until  it  could  be  sent  for,  Glen  and  his 
new  companion  started  down  the  valley.  As 
they  walked,  the  latter  explained  to  the  boy  that, 
many  years  before,  while  trapping  on  that  very 
stream,  he  had  discovered  gold  in  its  sands.  Ke- 
cently  he  had  employed  a  number  of  Mexicans 
to  work  for  him,  and  had  started  some  placer 
diggings  about  a  mile  below  where  they  then 
were. 

This  interested  Glen  greatly;  for  all  of  his 
dreams  had  been  of  discovering  gold  somewhere 
in  this  wonderful  Western  country,  and  he  was 
most  desirous  of  learning  something  of  the  proc 
ess  of  procuring  it.  As  they  talked,  they  came 
in  sight  of  several  tents  and  brush  huts,  standing 
near  the  inner  end  of  a  long  sand-bar,  that  ex 
tended  diagonally  nearly  across  the  stream.  A 
rude  dam  built  along  its  upper  side  had  diverted 
the  water  from  it,  so  that  a  large  area  of  sand 
and  gravel  was  left  dry.  On  this  a  dozen  men 


Cfampmates. 

were  at  work,  digging  with  shovel  and  pick,  or 
rocking  cradles.  Glen  had  heard  of  miners'  cra 
dles,  or  "rockers,"  but  he  had  never  seen  one. 
Now  he  laughed  at  the  resemblance  between 
them  and  the  low  wooden  cradles  babies  were 
rocked  in. 

They  were  rough  boxes  mounted  on  rockers, 
of  which  the  one  at  the  forward  end  was  a  little 
lower  than  the  other,  so  as  to  give  the  cradle  a 
slight  slope  in  that  direction.  Each  had  an  iron 
grating  placed  across  its  upper  end,  and  a  few 
wooden  cleats  nailed  crosswise  of  its  bottom.  A 
hole  was  cut  in  its  foot-board,  and  a  handle,  by 
means  of  which  it  was  rocked,  was  fastened  to 
its  head-board.  There  were  two  men  to  each 
cradle :  one  to  shovel  dirt  on  to  its  grating,  and 
the  other  to  rock  it  and  pour  water  over  this 
dirt  to  wash  it  through.  The  grating  was  so 
fine  that  only  the  smallest  pebbles  could  pass 
through  it.  As  the  dirt  and  water  fell  to  the  bot 
tom  of  the  cradle,  and  ran  through  it  to  the  open 
ing  in  the  foot-board,  the  fine  particles  of  gold 
sank,  of  their  own  weight,  and  lodged  against  the 
cleats.  From  these  it  was  carefully  gathered  sev 
eral  times  each  day  by  the  white  overseer  who 
had  charge  of  the  diggings,  and  sent  to  Fort  Gar 
land  for  safe-keeping. 

Glen's  guide  also  showed  him  how  to  wash  oat 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

a  panful  of  gold-bearing  earth,  as  prospectors 
do.  He  picked  up  a  shallow  iron  pan,  filled  it 
with  earth,  and,  holding  it  half  immersed  in  the 
stream  with  its  outer  edge  inclined  from  him, 
shook  it  rapidly  to  and  fro,  with  a  semi-rotary 
motion.  In  a  minute  all  the  earth  had  been 
washed  out,  and  only  a  deposit  of  black  sand, 
containing  a  number  of  yellow  particles,  was  left 
on  the  bottom.  The  hunter  said  this  black  sand 
was  iron,  and  could  be  blown  away  from  about 
the  gold  after  it  was  dry,  or  drawn  away  with  a 
magnet. 

The  boy  was  greatly  pleased  to  be  allowed  to 
attempt  this  operation  for  himself,  and  felt  quite 
like  a  successful  miner  when  told  that  the  gold 
yielded  by  his  first  panful  was  worth  about  thirty 
cents. 

"While  he  was  thus  engaged  a  swarthy-com- 
plexioned  soldier,  evidently  a  Mexican,  though  he 
wore  a  United  States  uniform,  came  riding  up  the 
valley,  raised  his  hand  in  salute  to  the  hunter,  and 
exchanged  a  few  words  with  him.  The  latter 
hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then,  after  speak 
ing  again  to  the  soldier,  who  immediately  dis 
mounted,  he  said  to  Glen,  "  I  find  that  I  must 
return  to  the  fort  at  once.  So  if  you  will  take 
this  man's  horse,  and  ride  with  me,  I  shall  be 
glad  of  your  company."  His  own  horse  was 


Campsnates. 

standing  near  by,  and  in  another  minute  they 
were  riding  rapidly  down  the  little  valley,  with 
the  mining  camp  already  out  of  sight. 

After  a  mile  or  so  the  stream  that  Glen  had 
followed  for  so  long  led  them  into  the  broad 
expanse  of  the  San  Luis  Valley,  up  which  they 
turned,  and  speedily  came  in  sight  of  the  low 
white  walls  of  Fort  Garland,  surrounding  a  tall 
staff  from  which  an  American  flag  floated  lazily 
in  the  warm,  sun-lit  air. 

Although  Glen  did  not  know  much  about  sol 
diers,  or  the  meaning  of  military  forms,  he  was 
somewhat  surprised  to  see  the  guard  at  the  main 
entrance  of  the  fort  turn  hurriedly  out  and  pre 
sent  arms  as  they  clattered  in  past  them.  He 
quickly  forgot  this  incident  though,  in  his  admi 
ration  of  the  interior,  now  opened  before  him.  It 
was  a  large  square,  enclosed  on  all  sides  by  low 
comfortable -looking  buildings  of  adobe,  neatly 
whitewashed,  and  in  some  cases  provided  with 
green  blinds  and  wide  piazzas.  A  hard,  smooth 
driveway  ran  in  front  of  them,  and  the  middle 
of  the  enclosure  was  occupied  by  a  well-turfed 
parade-ground,  at  one  end  of  which  stood  a  bat 
tery  of  light  field-pieces.  The  chief  beauty  of 
the  place  lay  in  a  little  canal  of  crystal  water, 
that  ran  entirely  around  the  parade-ground.  It 
was  as  cool  and  sparkling  as  that  of  its  parent 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  255 

mountain  stream,  flowing  just  beyond  the  fort, 
and  the  refreshing  sound  of  its  rippling  pervaded 
the  whole  place. 

Riding  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  enclosure, 
the  hunter  and  his  companion  dismounted  in 
front  of  one  of  the  houses  with  blinds  and  a 
piazza.  This  the  former  invited  Glen  to  enter, 
and  at  the  same  moment  an  orderly  stepped  up 
and  took  their  horses.  In  a  cool,  dimly  lighted 
room,  Glen's  new  friend  asked  him  to  be  seated 
and  wait  a  few  moments.  In  about  fifteen  min 
utes  the  orderly  who  had  taken  the  horses  en 
tered  the  room,  and  saying  to  Glen  that  General 
Carson  would  like  to  see  him,  ushered  him  into 
an  adjoining  apartment.  For  a  moment  the  boy 
did  not  recognize  the  figure,  clad  in  a  colonel's 
uniform,  that  was  seated  beside  a  writing-table. 
But,  as  the  latter  said,  "  Well,  sir,  I  was  told  that 
you  wished  to  see  the  commandant,"  he  at  once 
knew  the  voice  for  that  of  his  friend  the  hunter, 
and,  with  a  tone  of  glad  surprise,  he  exclaimed, 

"  Why,  sir,  are  you — " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other,  laughing,  "  I  am  old 
Kit  Carson,  at  your  service,  and  I  bid  you  a 
hearty  welcome  to  Fort  Garland." 

Then  he  told  Glen  that  one  of  his  daughters 
was  to  be  married  that  evening  to  an  officer  of 
the  post.  They  had  been  engaged  for  some 


266  Ca/m/pmates. 

time,  but  there  had  been  nobody  to  marry  them 
until  that  day,  when  a  priest  from  Taos  had 
stopped  at  the  fort  on  his  way  to  the  upper  Rio 
Grande  settlements.  As  he  must  continue  his 
journey  the  next  morning,  the  colonel  had  been 
sent  for,  and  it  was  decided  that  the  wedding 
should  come  off  at  once. 

Thus  it  happened  that  Glen  was  assisting  to 
decorate  the  commandant's  quarters  with  flags 
and  evergreens  when  Mr.  Hobart  and  "  Billy  " 
Brackett,  who  had  come  on  a  little  in  advance  of 
the  rest  of  the  party,  rode  up  to  pay  their  re 
spects  to  Colonel  Carson.  He  went  out  to  meet 
them,  and,  being  fond  of  giving  pleasant  sur 
prises,  did  not  say  a  word  concerning  Glen ;  but, 
after  an  exchange  of  greetings,  led  them  directly 
into  the  room  where  he  was  at  work.  The  boy 
was  standing  on  a  box  fastening  a  flag  to  the 
wall  above  his  head,  as  the  men  entered.  The 
light  from  a  window  fell  full  upon  him,  and  they 
recognized  him  at  once. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

A  NEW  MEXICAN  WEDDING. 

FOB  a  moment  the  amazement  of  the  two  men 
at  again  beholding  the  lad  whom  they  were  fully 
persuaded  was  dead  would  neither  allow  them 
to  speak  nor  move.  Then  "Billy"  Brackett 
walked  softly  over  to  where  Glen  was  stand 
ing,  and  gave  one  of  his  legs  a  sharp  pinch. 

The  startled  boy,  who  had  not  noticed  his  ap 
proach,  leaped  to  the  floor  with  a  cry  of  mingled 
pain  and  surprise. 

"  I  only  wanted  to  be  sure  you  were  real,  old 
man,  and  not  a  ghost,"  said  "Billy"  Brackett, 
trying  to  speak  in  his  usual  careless  tone ;  but 
the  tears  that  stood  in  the  honest  fellow's  eyes, 
as  he  wrung  the  boy's  hand,  showed  how  deeply 
he  was  affected,  and  how  truly  he  had  mourned 
the  loss  of  his  young  friend. 

Nor  was  Mr.  Hobart  less  moved,  and,  as  he 
grasped  Glen's  hand,  he  said,  "  My  dear  boy,  I 
honestly  believe  this  is  the  happiest  moment  of 
my  life." 

They  did  not  stop  to  ask  for  his  story  then  • 


258  Campmates. 

but  insisted  on  taking  him  at  once  out  to  the 
camp  that  was  being  pitched  just  beyond  the 
fort,  that  the  rest  of  the  party  might  share  their 
joy  as  speedily  as  possible. 

The  boys  were  so  busily  engaged  with  their 
evening  duties  that  the  little  party  was  not  no 
ticed  until  they  were  close  at  hand.  Then  some 
body,  gazing  sharply  at  the  middle  figure  of  the 
three  who  approached,  cried  out,  "  If  that  isn't 
Glen  Matherson,  it's  his  twin  brother !" 

Everybody  paused  in  what  he  was  doing,  and 
every  eye  was  turned  in  the  same  direction.  For 
a  moment  there  was  a  profound  silence.  Then 
came  a  great  shout  of  joyful  amazement.  Every 
thing  was  dropped;  and,  with  one  accord,  the 
entire  party  made  a  rush  for  the  boy  whom  they 
all  loved,  and  whom  they  had  never  expected  to 
see  again. 

How  they  yelled,  and  cheered,  and  failed  to 
find  expressions  for  their  extravagant  delight! 
As  for  Binney  Gibbs,  he  fairly  sobbed  as  he  held 
Glen's  hand,  and  gazed  into  the  face  of  this 
comrade  for  whom  he  had  mourned,  and  whom 
he  once  thought  he  hated. 

Although,  at  first  sight,  it  seems  almost  incred 
ible  that  so  many  adventures  should  happen  to 
one  boy  on  a  single  trip,  it  must  be  remembered 
that,  with  the  exception  of  Binney,  Glen  was 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  259 

the  youngest  of  the  party,  and  consequently 
more  likely  to  be  reckless  and  careless  than  any 
of  the  others.  He  was  also  one  of  those  persons 
who,  while  everybody  around  them  is  moving 
along  quietly  and  soberly,  are  always  getting 
into  scrapes,  and  coming  out  of  each  one  bright, 
smiling,  and  ready  for  another.  Then,  too,  he 
was  a  stout,  fearless  fellow,  with  perfect  confi 
dence  in  himself  that  led  him  into,  and  out  of, 
situations  from  which  such  boys  as  Binney  Gibbs 
would  steer  clear. 

An  amusing  feature  of  Glen's  adventures  was, 
that  while  his  companions  were  ready  to  sympa 
thize  with  him  on  account  of  his  sufferings  and 
hardships,  it  never  seemed  to  occur  to  him  that 
he  had  had  anything  but  a  good  time,  and  one 
to  be  remembered  with  pleasure.  Thus,  in  the 
present  instance,  according  to  his  own  account, 
his  slide  down  the  mountain-side  had  been  the 
jolliest  coast  he  ever  took.  His  swim  in  the  lake 
had  been  cold,  but  then  it  had  not  lasted  long, 
and  he  had  enjoyed  the  fire  and  the  warmth  of 
the  cave  all  the  more  for  it.  As  for  his  subse 
quent  experiences,  he  related  them  in  such  a  way 
that,  before  he  finished,  his  listeners  began  to  re 
gard  him  as  one  of  the  most  fortunate  and  to- 
be-envied  fellows  of  their  acquaintance.  They 
seemed  to  be  crossing  the  Plains  and  mountains 


860  Campmates. 

in  the  most  prosaic  manner,  without  doing  any 
thing  in  particular  except  work,  while,  to  this 
boy,  the  trip  was  full  of  adventures  and  delight 
ful  experiences.  Would  these  incidents  seem  so 
pleasant  to  him  if  he  were  as  old  as  they  ?  Per 
haps  not. 

They  were  all  to  enjoy  one  novel  experience 
that  very  evening,  though ;  for  Glen  brought  an 
invitation  from  Colonel  Carson  for  them  to  at 
tend  the  wedding,  and  of  course  they  promptly 
accepted  it.  As  it  was  to  be  an  early  affair,  they 
hurried  to  the  fort  as  soon  as  supper  was  over, 
and  found  the  guests  already  assembling  in  a 
large  room,  from  which  every  article  of  fur 
niture  had  been  removed.  It  was  a  motley  gath 
ering,  in  which  were  seen  the  gay  uniforms  of 
soldiers,  the  buckskin  of  trappers,  the  gaudy 
serapes  of  Mexican  Cabelleros,  the  flannel  shirts 
and  big  boots  of  the  engineers,  and  the  blanketed 
forms  of  stolid-faced  Ute  Indians,  for  whom  Kit 
Carson  was  acting  as  agent  at  that  time. 

The  company  was  ranged  about  three  sides  of 
the  room,  close  against  the  walls;  and,  when 
they  were  thus  disposed,  a  door  on  the  vacant 
side  opened,  and  a  Mexican  woman,  bearing  a 
large  basket  of  candles,  entered.  Giving  a  can 
dle  to  each  guest,  and  lighting  it  for  him,  she 
indicated  by  signs  that  he  was  to  hold  it  above 


A  St&ry  of  ike  Plains.  261 

his  head.  So  the  guests  became  living  candle 
sticks,  and,  when  all  their  candles  were  lighted, 
the  illumination  was  quite  brilliant  enough  even 
for  a  wedding. 

Everything  being  ready,  the  door  through 
which  the  candles  had  been  brought  again 
opened,  and  the  bridal  party  entered  First  came 
the  priest,  then  Kit  Carson  and  his  wife,  who 
was  a  Mexican  woman  from  Taos.  Behind  them 
walked  the  couple  who  were  to  be  married.  The 
bride  was  a  slender,  olive  -  complexioned  girl, 
dressed  very  simply  in  white,  while  the  groom 
wore  the  handsome  uniform  of  a  lieutenant  of 
cavalry.  The  rear  of  the  procession  was  brought 
up  by  a  bevy  of  black-haired  and  black-eyed  sen- 
oritas,  sisters  and  cousins  of  the  bride. 

The  priest  read  the  wedding  service  in  Latin, 
and  the  bride  made  her  responses  in  Spanish,  so 
that  the  few  English  words  spoken  by  the  groom 
were  all  that  most  of  the  spectators  understood. 
As  "  Billy  "  Brackett  afterwards  remarked,  it  was 
evidently  necessary  to  be  liberally  educated  to 
get  married  in  that  country. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  ceremony  the  entire 
wedding-party,  with  the  exception  of  the  bride'a 
father,  disappeared,  and  were  seen  no  more ;  while 
Colonel  Carson  led  his  guests  into  a  neighboring 
room,  where  the  wedding  supper  was  served. 

18 


Uampmates. 

Here  the  famous  scout,  surrounded  by  the  tried 
comrades  of  many  a  wild  campaign,  entertained 
the  company  by  calling  on  these  for  one  anec 
dote  after  another  of  the  adventures  that  had 
been  crowded  so  thickly  into  their  lives.  This 
was  a  rare  treat  to  the  new-comers,  especially  to 
Glen  Eddy  and  Binney  Gibbs,  to  whom  the  thrill 
ing  tales,  told  by  the  boy  trappers,  scouts,  hunt 
ers,  and  soldiers  who  had  participated  in  them, 
were  so  real  and  vivid  that,  before  this  delight 
ful  evening  was  over,  it  seemed  as  though  they 
too  must  have  taken  part  in  the  scenes  described. 

In  spite  of  the  late  hours  kept  by  most  of  the 
engineers  that  night,  their  camp  was  broken  by 
daylight,  and  at  sunrise  they  were  off  on  the  line 
as  usual,  for  September  was  now  well  advanced, 
and  there  were  mountain  ranges  yet  to  be  crossed 
that  would  be  impassable  after  winter  had  once 
fairly  set  in.  So,  leaving  the  pleasant  army  post 
and  their  hospitable  entertainers  in  it,  they  picked 
up  their  line,  and,  running  it  out  over  the  broad 
San  Luis  Valley  to  the  Eio  Grande,  began  to  fol 
low  that  river  into  the  very  heart  of  New  Mexico. 

Glen  was  more  than  glad  to  find  himself  once 
more  on  Nettle's  back,  and  again  bearing  the 
front  flag  in  advance  of  the  party.  He  was  also 
surprised  to  find  what  a  barren  place  the  valley 
that  had  looked  so  beautiful  and  desirable  from 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  263 

the  mountains  really  was.  Its  sandy  soil  only 
supported  a  thick  growth  of  sage  brush,  that 
yielded  a  strong  aromatic  fragrance  when  bruised 
or  broken,  and  which  rendered  the  running  of 
the  line  peculiarly  toilsome.  It  was  a  relief  to 
reach  the  great  river  of  New  Mexico,  and  find 
themselves  in  the  more  fertile  country  imme 
diately  bordering  on  it.  Here,  too,  they  found 
numbers  of  quaint  Mexican  towns,  of  which  they 
passed  one  or  more  nearly  every  day. 

These  were  full  of  interest  to  the  young  ex 
plorers.  While  looking  at  their  low  flat-roofed 
houses,  built  of  adobe,  or  great  sun-dried  bricks 
of  mud  and  straw,  it  was  hard  to  realize  that  they 
were  still  in  America  and  traversing  one  of  the 
territories  of  the  United  States.  All  their  sur 
roundings  were  those  of  the  far  East,  and  the  de 
scriptions  in  the  Bible  of  life  and  scenes  in  Pal 
estine  applied  perfectly  to  the  valley  of  the  Kio 
Grande  as  they  saw  it.  The  people  were  dark- 
skinned,  with  straight,  Iftack  hair ;  and  while  the 
young  children  ran  about  nearly  naked,  their 
elders  wore  loose,  flowing  garments,  and,  if  not 
barefooted,  were  shod  with  sandals  of  raw  hide 
or  plaited  straw. 

The  square  houses,  with  thick  walls,  broken 
only  by  occasional  narrow  unglazed  windows, 
were  exactly  like  those  of  the  Biblical  pictures. 


264  Ca/m/pmates. 

Inside,  the  floors  were  of  hard-beaten  clay,  and 
there  were  neither  tables  nor  chairs,  only  earthen 
benches  covered  with  sheep-skins  or  gay  striped 
blankets.  Some  of  the  finer  houses  enclosed  open 
courts  or  plazas,  in  which  were  trees  and  shrubs. 
The  cooking  was  done  in  the  open  air,  or  in  round- 
topped  earthen  ovens,  built  outside  the  houses. 

The  women  washed  clothing  on  flat  rocks  at 
the  edge  of  the  streams,  and  young  girls  carried 
all  the  water  used  for  domestic  purposes  in  tall 
earthen  jars  borne  gracefully  on  their  heads. 
The  beasts  of  burden  were  donkeys,  or  "  burros," 
as  the  Mexicans  call  them.  Grain  was  threshed 
by  being  laid  on  smooth  earthen  threshing-floors, 
in  the  open  air,  and  having  horses,  donkeys,  cat 
tle,  and  sheep  driven  over  it  for  hours.  "Wine 
was  kept  in  skins  or  great  earthen  jars.  The 
mountains  and  hills  of  the  country  were  covered 
with  pines  and  cedars,  its  cultivated  valleys  with 
vineyards  and  fruit  orchards ;  while  the  raising 
of  flocks  and  herds  was  the  leading  industry  of 
its  inhabitants. 

At  this  season  of  the  year,  though  the  sun 
shone  from  an  unclouded  sky  of  the  most  brill 
iant  blue,  the  air  was  dry  and  bracing  in  the 
daytime,  and  crisp  with  the  promises  of  frost  at 
night.  It  was  glorious  weather ;  and,  under  its 
influence,  the  second  division  ran  a  line  of  a 


A  Story  of  the  Plams. 

hundred  miles  down  the  river  in  ten  days.  As 
the  entire  party  had  looked  forward  with  eager 
anticipations  to  visiting  Santa  Fe,  which  is  not 
on  the  Rio  Grande,  but  some  distance  to  the  east 
of  it,  they  were  greatly  disappointed  to  be  met 
by  a  messenger  from  General  Lyle,  with  orders 
for  Mr.  Hobart  to  come  into  that  place,  while 
his  party  continued  their  line  south  to  Albu 
querque,  eighty  miles  beyond  where  they  were. 

Glen  was  intensely  disappointed  at  this,  for 
Santa  Fe  was  one  of  the  places  he  had  been  most 
anxious  to  visit.  His  disappointment  was  doubled 
when  Mr.  Hobart  said  that  he  must  take  some 
body  with  him  as  private  secretary,  and  intimated 
that  his  choice  would  have  fallen  on  the  young 
front  flagman  if  he  had  only  learned  to  talk 
Spanish.  As  it  was,  Binney  Gibbs  was  chosen 
for  the  envied  position ;  for,  though  he,  like  the 
rest,  had  only  been  for  a  short  time  among  Mexi 
cans,  he  was  already  able  to  speak  their  language 
with  comparative  ease. 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  learned  it  so  quickly," 
said  Glen,  one  day,  when,  after  he  had  striven  in 
vain  to  make  a  native  understand  that  he  wished 
to  purchase  some  fruit,  Binney  had  stepped  up  and 
explained  matters  with  a  few  words  of  Spanish. 

"Why,  it  is  easy  enough,"  replied  Binney,  "to 
anybody  who  understands  Latin." 


Camypmates. 

Then  Glen  wished  that  he,  too,  understood 
Latin,  as  he  might  easily  have  done  as  well  as 
his  comrade.  He  wished  it  ten  times  more 
though,  when,  on  acccount  of  it,  Binney  rode 
gayly  off  to  Santa  Fe  with  Mr.  Hobart,  while  he 
went  out  to  work  on  the  line. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

IN  THE   VALLEY  OF  THE   RIO   GRANDE. 


the  close  of  a  mellow  autumn  day  Glen 
and  "  Billy  "  Brackett  sat  on  a  fragment  of  broken 
wall  and  gazed  with  interest  on  the  scene  about 
them.  On  one  side,  crowning  a  low  bluff  that 
overlooked  the  Eio  Grande  twelve  miles  below 
Albuquerque,  was  the  Indian  pueblo  of  Isletta, 
a  picturesque  collection  of  adobe  buildings  and 
stockaded  corrals,  containing  some  eight  hun 
dred  inhabitants.  On  the  other  side  were  ex 
tensive  vineyards  ;  beyond  them  were  vast  plains, 
from  which  flocks  of  bleating  sheep  were  being 
driven  in  for  the  night  by  Indian  boys  ;  and  still 
beyond  rose  the  blue  range  of  the  Sierra  Madre. 
The  air  was  so  clear  and  still  that  through  it  the 
sounds  of  children's  voices,  the  barking  of  dogs, 
the  bleating  of  sheep,  the  lowing  of  cattle,  and  the 
cracked  tones  of  the  bell  in  the  quaint  old  mission 
church  came  to  the  ears  of  Glen  and  his  com 
panion  with  wonderful  distinctness.  The  Indian 
women  were  preparing  their  evening  meals,  and 
the  fragrance  of  burning  cedar  drifted  down  from 


%68  Campmates. 

the  village.  Never  afterwards  could  Glen  smell 
the  odor  of  cedar  without  having  the  scene  of 
that  evening  vividly  recalled  to  his  mind. 

Mingled  with  this  fragrance  was  another,  equal 
ly  distinct  and  suggestive.  It  was  that  of  crushed 
grapes ;  and  the  two  explorers  were  watching  cu 
riously  the  process  of  New  Mexican  wine-making, 
going  on  but  a  short  distance  from  them.  Clumsy 
ox-carts,  constructed  without  the  use  of  iron,  and 
having  great  wooden  wheels  that  screeched  as 
they  turned  on  their  ungreased  wooden  axles, 
brought  in  loads  of  purple  grapes  from  the  vine 
yards.  On  top  of  the  loads,  as  though  the  grapes 
were  so  much  hay,  rode  Indian  men  or  boys, 
armed  with  wooden  pitchforks.  With  these  they 
flung  the  grapes  into  a  great  vat  of  green  ox 
hides,  supported,  about  ten  feet  from  the  ground, 
by  four  heavy  posts.  The  sides  of  this  vat  were 
drawn  to  a  point  at  the  bottom,  where  there  was 
a  small  outlet  left,  through  which  the  grape-juice 
might  flow  into  a  second  vat,  placed  directly  be* 
neath  the  other.  It  was  similar  in  all  respects  to 
the  first,  except  that  it  offered  no  opening  for  the 
escape  of  its  contents. 

When  a  load  of  grapes  had  been  pitched  into 
the  upper  vat,  two  naked  Indians  clambered  up, 
and,  springing  on  top  of  them,  began  to  tread 
them  with  their  feet.  For  hours  they  continued 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

this  performance,  while  a  steady  stream  of  blood- 
red  juice  flowed  from  the  upper  vat  into  the  low 
er.  From  there  it  was  dipped  into  huge  earthen 
jars,  and  set  away  to  ferment. 

"Well,"  said  'Billy'  Brackett,  at  length,  as  he 
rose  and  started  towards  camp,  "  I've  seen  all  the 
native  wine-making  I  want  to.  If  those  beggars 
had  only  washed  themselves  first  it  wouldn't  be 
so  bad,  but  I  honestly  believe  they  only  take  a 
bath  once  a  year,  and  that  is  in  grape-juice." 

"  It  is  pretty  bad,"  laughed  Glen,  "  though  I 
don't  know  as  it  is  any  worse  than  their  milking." 
This  was  a  sore  point  with  him,  for  he  was  very 
fond  of  fresh  milk ;  but,  after  once  witnessing  a 
New  Mexican  milking,  and  seeing  cows,  mares, 
asses,  sheep,  and  goats  all  milked  into  the  same 
vessel,  he  preferred  to  go  without  it. 

It  was  surprising  to  see  what  a  tall,  broad- 
shouldered  fellow  Glen  was  getting  to  be ;  and 
a  single  glance  was  sufficient  to  show  what  cross 
ing  the  Plains  had  done  for  him.  His  eyes  had 
the  clear  look  of  perfect  health ;  his  face,  neck, 
and  hands  were  as  brown  as  sun  and  wind  could 
make  them,  while  his  hair  had  entirely  recovered 
from  its  Kansas  City  shearing,  and  was  now  plain 
ly  visible  beneath  the  broad  sombrero  that  re 
placed  the  hat  lost  on  the  Spanish  Peak.  A 
heavy  blue  flannel  shirt,  a  pair  of  army  trousers 


Cwm/pmates. 

tacked  into  the  tops  of  cowhide  boots,  a  leather 
belt  supporting  a  revolver  and  a  sheath-knife, 
and  a  silk  handkerchief  loosely  knotted  about 
his  neck,  completed  his  costume. 

"  Billy"  Brackett  was  dressed  in  a  similar  fash 
ion,  except  that  he  still  clung  fondly  to  the  shiny 
cutaway  coat  in  which  he  was  introduced  to  the 
reader,  and  to  which  he  was  deeply  attached. 

As  they  walked  towards  camp,  he  and  Glen 
discussed  the  topic  now  uppermost  in  their  minds, 
namely,  that  of  their  future  movements.  Since 
going  to  Santa  Fe,  Mr.  Hobart  had  not  rejoined 
them,  though  a  note  received  from  him  at  Albu 
querque  promised  that  he  would  do  so  at  Isletta, 
to  which  place  he  ordered  the  line  to  be  run. 
Now  they  had  been  for  two  days  at  the  Pueblo, 
but  where  they  were  to  go  next,  or  whether 
they  were  to  go  any  farther,  they  did  not  know, 
and  were  anxious  to  find  out.  They  had  heard 
vague  rumors  that  General  Lyle  was  to  return 
to  the  States,  and  that  all  the  plans  of  the  expe 
dition  might  be  changed.  Thus,  when  Mr.  Ho 
bart  galloped  into  camp  just  after  supper  that 
evening,  he  was  heartily  welcomed. 

"  Where  is  Binney  Gibbs  ?"  was  the  first  ques 
tion  asked. 

"  Promoted  to  be  private  secretary  to  General 
Elting,  the  new  chief,"  was  the  reply. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  271 

"Where  is  General  Elting?" 

"  He  is  still  in  Santa  Fe,  but  is  going  across 
with  the  other  two  divisions  by  the  Gila  route." 

"  And  where  are  we  going  ?" 

"  Going  to  run  a  one-thousand-mile  line  from 
here  to  the  Pacific  Ocean,  in  just  the  shortest 
time  we  can  accomplish  it." 

"Good  enough!  Hurrah  for  the  Pacific !  Hur 
rah  for  California  I"  shouted  every  member  of  the 
party  but  one.  He  was  the  leveller ;  and  when  Mr. 
Hobart,  after  explaining  the  dangers  and  hardships 
of  the  trip  before  them,  said  that  anybody  who 
did  not  care  to  encounter  them  would  be  fur 
nished  with  free  transportation  from  that  point 
back  to  the  States,  this  man  decided  to  accept  the 
offer. 

Little,  did  Glen  Eddy  imagine,  as  he  bade  him 
good-bye  the  next  day,  what  an  effect  upon  his 
future  the  decision  thus  suddenly  reached  by  the 
leveller  was  to  have.  In  the  stage  from  Santa 
Fe  the  latter  met  a  gentleman  and  his  wife  who 
were  greatly  interested  in  his  description  of  the 
explorations  in  which  he  had  just  taken  part. 
Among  other  things,  he  described  Glen  Eddy 
Matherson's  remarkable  adventures;  and  the 
lady,  who  seemed  struck  by  the  boy's  name, 
asked  many  questions  concerning  him.  Fortu 
nately,  the  leveller  was  able  to  answer  most  of 


Campmates. 

them,  and  thus  she  learned,  what  Glen  had  never 
attempted  to  conceal,  that  he  was  an  adopted  son 
of  Luke  Matherson,  of  Brimfield,  Pennsylvania, 
who  had  saved  him  from  a  railroad  wreck  in 
Glen  Eddy  creek  when  he  was  a  baby.  She  did 
not  explain  why  she  asked  these  questions,  and 
soon  changed  the  conversation  to  other  topics. 

The  most  immediate  effect  upon  Glen  of  the 
leveller's  departure  was  to  promote  him  and  in 
crease  his  pay.  As  it  was  impossible,  in  that 
country,  to  engage  men  of  experience  to  fill  places 
in  an  engineer  corps,  Mr.  Brackett  was  obliged 
to  take  the  level,  while  Mr.  Hobart  himself  took 
charge  of  the  transit ;  and,  when  the  former  was 
asked  who  he  would  like  as  rodman  in  place 
of  Binney  Gibbs,  he  promptly  answered,  "  Glen 
Matherson." 

In  speaking  to  Glen  of  this  change  of  posi 
tion,  the  division  engineer  asked  the  boy  if  he 
was  sure  he  wanted  to  go  through  to  the  Pacific. 

"Of  course  I  do,  sir!"  answered  Glen,  in  sur 
prise  at  the  question. 

"It  is  going  to  be  a  trip  full  of  danger  and 
all  sorts  of  hardships,  possibly  including  starva 
tion  and  freezing.  I  don't  know  but  what  you 
really  ought  to  go  back." 

"  Oh,  sir,  please  don't  send  me  back !"  plead 
ed  Glen,  earnestly.  "I  should  feel  awfully  to 


A  /Story  of  the  Plains.  273 

have  to  go  home  with  the  trip  only  half  fin 
ished." 

"Then  you  are  willing  to  face  all  the  hard 
ships?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I'm  willing  to  face  anything,  rather 
than  going  back." 

"  All  right !"  laughed  Mr.  Hobart ;  "  I  suppose 
I  shall  have  to  take  you  along.  I  proposed  to 
the  general  to  take  Binney  Gibbs  with  him,  or 
else  send  him  back  to  the  States,  because  I  did 
not  consider  him  strong  enough  to  endure  what 
is  ahead  of  us  ;  but  I  don't  see  how  I  could  urge 
that  in  your  case,  for  I  actually  believe  you  are 
one  of  the  toughest  among  us." 

How  Glen  rejoiced  in  his  strength  as  he  heard 
this !  Perhaps  it  was  going  to  prove  as  valuable 
to  him  as  a  scholarship,  after  all. 

"  Mr.  Brackett  is  going  to  run  the  level,  and 
wants  you  for  his  rodman,"  continued  Mr.  Ho 
bart.  "The  pay  will  be  double  what  you  are 
now  receiving,  and  you  can  soon  fit  yourself  for 
the  position  by  a  little  hard  study ;  for  Mr.  Brack 
ett  is  a  capital  instructor.  I  have  told  him  that 
he  may  take  you  on  trial,  and  see  what  he  can 
do  with  you.  I  also  told  him  of  your  aversion 
to  study,  and  gave  him  to  understand  what  a 
difficult  job  he  had  undertaken." 

Glen  flushed  at  this,  and  gazed  at  the  ground 


274  Campmatea. 

for  a  moment.  Finally  he  said,  "Studying 
seems  very  different  when  you  can  look  right 
ahead  and  see  what  good  it  is  going  to  do." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Hobart,  "  I  know  it  does. 
Still,  in  most  cases  we  have  to  trust  the  word  of 
those  who  can  look  ahead  when  we  can't.  I've 
no  doubt  but  what  you  were  told  at  school  that 
a  knowledge  of  Latin  would  aid  you  in  learning 
many  other  languages ;  but  you  were  not  willing 
to  believe  it  until  you  saw  for  yourself  how  it 
helped  Binney  Gibbs  pick  up  Spanish." 

Glen  did  not  make  any  promises  aloud  in  re 
gard  to  fitting  himself  for  his  new  position,  for 
he  believed  in  actions  rather  than  words ;  but  he 
made  one  to  himself,  and  determined  to  keep  it. 

They  remained  in  camp  at  Isletta  one  day  long 
er,  to  prepare  for  their  arduous  undertaking,  and 
to  engage  several  new  axemen  to  fill  the  places 
of  those  who  had  been  promoted ;  but  on  the  sec 
ond  morning  the  transit  was  set  up  over  the  last 
stake  they  had  driven,  and  its  telescope  was  point 
ed  due  west. 

At  first  Glen  missed  the  excitement  of  riding 
in  advance  of  the  party  with  the  front  flag.  On 
a  preliminary  survey,  the  level  can  hardly  keep 
up  with  the  transit ;  and  it  was  not  so  pleasant 
to  be  always  behind,  striving  to  catch  up,  as  it 
had  been  to  be  in  the  lead. 


A  Story  of  the  Plows. 

To  "Billy"  Brackett  the  change  of  positions 
came  even  harder  than  to  Glen,  because  in  tak 
ing  the  level  he  had  gone  back  a  step  rather  than 
forward;  but  he  never  showed  it.  Indeed,  by 
his  steady  cheerfulness  and  unceasing  flow  of 
good  spirits  the  new  leveller  soon  banished  even 
a  shadow  of  regret  from  the  mind  of  his  young 
rodman,  and  taught  him  to  feel  a  real  interest  in 
his  new  work. 

So  they  slowly  climbed  the  western  slope  of 
the  Rio  Grande  Valley,  crossed  the  barren  plateau 
of  the  divide  between  it  and  the  Rio  Puerco,  fol 
lowed  that  stream  and  its  tributary,  the  San  Jose, 
on  the  banks  of  which  they  saw  the  ancient  pue 
blos  of  Laguna  and  Acoma,  into  another  region 
of  rugged  mountains,  and,  in  about  two  weeks, 
found  themselves  at  the  forlorn  frontier  post  of 
Fort  "Wingate,  where  they  were  to  obtain  their 
final  supplies  for  the  winter. 


CHAPTER  XXXIY. 

BAITING    A    WOLF-TRAP. 

AT  Fort  Wingate  the  real  hardships  of  the  trip 
began  in  an  unexpected  manner.  Instead  of  be 
ing  plentifully  supplied  with  provisions,  as  had 
been  reported,  the  post  was  found  to  be  very 
poorly  provided,  and  all  that  could  be  spared  to 
the  engineers  were  condemned  quartermaster's 
stores.  The  party  must  take  these  or  nothing; 
and  when  Mr.  Hobart  left  it  to  his  men  whether 
they  should  accept  the  damaged  stores  and  push 
on,  or  go  back  to  the  Kio  Grande,  they  unan 
imously  said,  "Go  on!"  So,  for  the  next  two 
months,  they  made  the  best  of  half -spoiled  hams 
and  bacon,  hard-tack  filled  with  white  worms, 
and  sugar  abounding  in  little  black  bugs,  that 
fortunately  floated  on  top  of  the  coffee  and  could 
be  skimmed  off. 

The  men  provided  themselves  with  a  number 
of  little  luxuries  at  the  sutler's — the  last  store 
they  would  see  for  months — and  "  Billy  "  Brack- 
ett  bought  a  cheese.  This  was  considered  a  very 
queer  purchase ;  but  Glen's  was  queerer  still,  for 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  277 

it  was  a  small  quantity  of  strychnine.  He  only 
procured  this  after  giving  assurances  that  he  did 
not  propose  to  commit  suicide  and  making  many 
promises  to  be  very  careful  in  its  use.  What  he 
proposed  to  do  with  the  poison  he  did  not  confide 
to  anybody  except  his  friend  "Billy"  Brackett, 
who  agreed  with  him  that  it  was  a  capital  plan. 
A  run  of  twelve  miles  from  Fort  Wingate 
brought  the  party  to  a  camp,  in  a  forest  of  the 
most  stately  yellow-pines  they  had  ever  seen,  be 
side  a  great  spring  of  ice-cold  water — known  as 
the  Agua  Fria  (cold  water).  Here,  as  soon  as 
supper  was  over,  Glen  proceeded  to  put  his  great 
plan  into  execution.  The  nights  were  now  very 
cold,  and  the  boy  generally  woke  before  morning 
to  find  himself  shivering  beneath  his  insufficient 
covering  of  blankets.  Every  night,  too,  since 
entering  the  mountains  the  party  had  been  an 
noyed  by  the  sneaking  visits  and  unearthly  howl- 
ings  of  wolves  that  hung  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
camp  from  dark  to  daylight,  every  now  and  then 
making  a  quick  dash  through  it,  if  the  guard  was 
not  watching  sharply,  and  snatching  at  bits  of 
food  or  at  anything  made  of  leather  that  lay  in 
their  path.  So  Glen  thought  he  would  teach  the 
wolves  a  lesson,  which  should  at  the  same  time  add 
some  of  their  skins  to  his  bed-clothing ;  and  it  was 
for  this  purpose  he  had  procured  the  strychnine. 
19 


Campmates. 

Now,  with  "  Billy  "  Brackett's  help,  he  dragged 
ont  from  one  of  the  wagons  a  gunny-sack,  con 
taining  some  kidneys,  lungs,  and  other  refuse 
animal  matter,  obtained  from  the  Fort  "Wingate 
butcher,  and  these  he  smeared  with  the  deadly 
powder.  Then  they  prepared  several  torches  of 
pine  slivers,  and,  amid  the  unanswered  question 
ings  of  their  companions,  left  camp,  carrying  the 
sack  of  meat  between  them.  Beginning  at  a 
point  a  few  rods  from  the  tents,  they  strewed  the 
poisoned  bait  for  half  a  mile  along  the  banks  of 
the  little  stream  flowing  from  the  spring.  It  was 
an  exciting  task,  for  they  seemed  to  hear  sus 
picious  sniffs,  and  the  soft  pattering  of  feet  on 
both  sides  of  them ;  while  Glen  felt  certain  that 
his  torchlight  was  reflected  from  gleaming  eye 
balls  more  than  once.  So  greatly  did  these  things 
work  upon  their  imaginations  that  when,  as  they 
started  back  towards  camp,  their  last  torch  sud 
denly  went  out,  leaving  them  in  blackest  dark 
ness,  they  both  took  to  their  heels,  and  raced 
breathlessly  for  the  distant  light  of  the  friendly 
camp-fire.  When  they  reached  it,  in  perfect 
safety,  they  burst  out  laughing  in  one  another's 
faces,  and  wondered  what  they  had  run  from. 

Glen  was  disappointed,  as  he  lay  shivering  in 
his  blankets  that  night,  not  to  hear  so  many 
wolves  as  usual,  while  the  few  howls  that  did 


A  Story  of  the  Plama.  279 

reach  his  ears  seemed  to  come  from  a  distance. 
Still,  he  comforted  himself  with  the  reflection 
that  dead  wolves  couldn't  howl,  and  doubtless  all 
those  that  had  ventured  near  the  camp  had  eaten 
the  poisoned  meat,  and  had  their  howlings  effec 
tually  silenced. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  hardly  dropped 
asleep  when  he  was  rudely  awakened  by  being 
pulled,  feet  foremost,  out  of  his  blankets,  under 
the  side  of  the  tent,  and  into  the  open  air.  At 
the  same  moment  "Billy"  Brackett's  laughing 
voice  cried,  "  Come,  Glen,  here  it  is  broad  day 
light,  and  high  time  we  were  gathering  in  our 
wolves." 

Whew !  how  cold  it  was !  and  in  what  a  hurry 
Glen  sprang  from  the  frozen  ground,  to  rush  back 
into  the  tent  for  his  boots  and  army  overcoat. 
He  had  everything  else  on,  for  there  was  very 
little  undressing  at  night  in  that  party.  As  for 
being  sleepy,  the  biting  air  had  awakened  him  as 
effectually  as  a  dash  of  ice-water. 

As  they  left  camp,  "  Billy  "  Brackett  shouted 
back  to  one  of  the  Mexican  axemen  to  follow 
after  them,  and  the  man  answered  that  he  would 
be  along  in  a  minute.  It  was  light  enough,  when 
they  reached  the  place  where  they  had  left  the 
first  of  the  poisoned  meat,  for  them  to  see  it  if  it 
had  been  there ;  but  it  was  not.  Neither  was 


880  Campmates. 

there  any  dead  wolf  to  be  found  in  the  vicinity. 
It  was  the  same  along  the  whole  line,  where  they 
had  scattered  their  bait.  They  could  neither  dis 
cover  meat  nor  wolves. 

"Hello!"  exckimed  "Billy"  Brackett  softly, 
as  they  were  about  to  turn  back,  "  I  believe  the 
wolves  are  cooking  their  meat ;"  and  with  that 
he  pointed  to  a  thin  column  of  blue  smoke  rising 
through  the  trees  at  some  distance  farther  down 
the  stream. 

"  Perhaps  they  are  Indians,"  suggested  Glen. 

"Perhaps  they  are.  Let's  go  and  find  out. 
We  can  take  a  look  at  them  without  being  seen. 
Besides,  the  Indians  hereabout  are  peaceful  now." 

So  they  crept  cautiously  towards  the  smoke, 
until  at  length  they  were  lying  flat  on  the 
ground,  on  the  edge  of  a  low  bank,  with  their 
heads  hidden  in  tufts  of  grass,  peering  into  a 
small  encampment  of  Indians  just  below  them. 
They  had  hardly  gained  this  position  when  Glen, 
uttering  a  cry  of  horror,  sprang  down  the  bank, 
rushed  in  among  the  Indians,  and,  snatching  a 
piece  of  meat  from  the  hands  of  one  of  them, 
who  was  raising  it  to  his  mouth,  flung  it  so  far 
away  that  it  was  snapped  up  and  swallowed  by 
a  lean,  wolfish-looking  cur,  that  had  not  dared 
venture  near  the  fire. 

At  Glen's  sudden  appearance  the  Indian  worn- 


A  Story  of  the  Flaws. 

en  and  children  ran  screaming  into  the  bushes, 
while  the  men,  springing  to  their  feet,  surrounded 
him  with  angry  exclamations  and  significant 
handlings  of  their  knives.  They  received  a  sec 
ond  surprise,  and  fell  back  a  little  as  "Billy" 
Brackett,  who  had  not  at  first  understood  Glen's 
precipitate  action,  came  rushing  down  the  bank 
after  him,  shouting,  "  Stand  back,  you  villains ! 
If  you  lay  a  hand  on  Jiim,  I'll  blow  the  tops  of  all 
your  heads  off !" 

At  the  same  time  Glen  was  making  all  the 
faces  expressive  of  extreme  disgust  that  he  could 
think  of,  and  saying,  as  he  pointed  to  a  pile  of 
meat  lying  in  a  gunny-sack  beside  the  fire : 

"  Carne  no  bueno  !  Muy  mal !  No  ~bueno  por 
hombre  /"  which  was  the  best  Spanish  he  knew 
for,  "  The  meat  is  not  good.  It  is  very  bad,  and 
not  at  all  good  for  a  man  to  eat." 

But  the  Indians  could  not  understand.  The 
meat  might  not  be  good  enough  for  white  men, 
who  were  so  very  particular,  but  it  was  good 
enough  for  them.  The  white  men  had  thrown 
it  away  and  they  had  found  it.  They  meant  to 
eat  it,  too,  for  they  were  very  hungry.  Now,  if 
these  uninvited  guests  to  their  camp  would  not 
clear  out  and  let  them  eat  their  breakfast  in 
peace,  they  must  suffer  the  consequences. 

This  is  what  they  said ;  but  neither  Glen  nor 


Campmates. 

"  What  is  the  trouble,  Mr.  Brackett  ?"  he  asked 
hurriedly,  in  English. 

With  a  few  words  they  made  the  situation 
clear  to  him,  and  he,  in  turn,  quickly  explained 
to  the  Indians  that  these  white  men  had  merely 
tried  to  save  their  lives  by  preventing  them  from 
eating  poisoned  meat. 

"  TeU  them  to  look  at  the  clog !"  cried  Glen, 
pointing  to  the  poor  animal  that  had  swallowed 
the  very  bit  of  meat  he  had  snatched  from  the 
Indian,  and  which  was  evidently  dying. 

The  sight  was  a  powerful  argument,  worth 
more  than  all  the  words  that  could  have  been 
spoken. 

The  Indians  sullenly  returned  to  their  fire  and 
sat  down,  while  our  friends,  casting  many  watch 
ful  glances  over  their  shoulders  as  they  went, 
made  good  their  retreat  in  the  direction  of  their 
own  camp. 

"What  kind  of  Indians  were  they?"  asked 
Glen,  of  the  Mexican,  when  they  had  lost  sight 
of  their  unpleasant  acquaintances. 

"  ISTavajos,"  was  the  answer. 

They  were  indeed  a  wretched  band  of  the  once 
wealthy  and  powerful  tribe  who  claimed  that 
whole  country  as  a  pasture-land  for  their  count 
less  flocks  and  herds.  For  many  years  they  had 
been  hunted  and  killed,  their  flocks  driven  off 


A  Story  of  ike  Plains. 

and  their  growing  crops  destroyed  wherever 
found,  until  now  the  main  body  of  the  tribe 
was  being  slowly  starved  out  of  existence  on  a 
small  reservation  in  Eastern  New  Mexico.  It 
was  so  small  that  no  more  Indians  could  be 
crowded  into  it,  and  the  miserable  remnant,  who 
still  lurked  in  the  fastnesses  of  their  own  coun 
try,  despoiled  of  all  means  of  procuring  a  liveli 
hood,  prowled  about  like  so  many  hungry  dogs, 
gleaning  the  offal  from  white  men's  camps,  and 
hunted  like  wild  beasts  by  all  whom  they  were 
unfortunate  enough  to  meet. 

This  band  had  probably  followed  Mr.  Hobart's 
party  for  the  sake  of  what  might  be  picked  up 
in  their  abandoned  camps,  and  had  evidently  re 
garded  the  poisoned  meat,  discovered  that  very 
morning,  as  a  perfect  godsend. 

"  I  reckon  we'll  have  to  manage  somehow  to 
get  along  without  any  wolves,"  said  " Billy" 
Brackett. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Glen,  regretfully,  "  I  suppose 
we  shall." 

Ten  miles  of  line  were  run  that  day,  through 
the  solemn  pine  forest,  and  darkness  overtook 
the  party  on  the  very  summit  of  the  great  Con 
tinental  Divide.  They  were  crossing  the  Sierra 
Madre  Mountains,  through  Zuni  Pass.  As  Glen 
subtracted  the  last  reading  of  his  rod  for  the 


Campmates. 

"  What  is  the  trouble,  Mr.  Brackett  ?"  he  asked 
hurriedly,  in  English. 

With  a  few  words  they  made  the  situation 
clear  to  him,  and  he,  in  turn,  quickly  explained 
to  the  Indians  that  these  white  men  had  merely- 
tried  to  save  their  lives  by  preventing  them  from 
eating  poisoned  meat. 

"  Tell  them  to  look  at  the  dog !"  cried  Glen, 
pointing  to  the  poor  animal  that  had  swallowed 
the  very  bit  of  meat  he  had  snatched  from  the 
Indian,  and  which  was  evidently  dying. 

The  sight  was  a  powerful  argument,  worth 
more  than  all  the  words  that  could  have  been 
spoken. 

The  Indians  sullenly  returned  to  their  fire  and 
sat  down,  while  our  friends,  casting  many  watch 
ful  glances  over  their  shoulders  as  they  went, 
made  good  their  retreat  in  the  direction  of  their 
own  camp. 

"What  kind  of  Indians  were  they?"  asked 
Glen,  of  the  Mexican,  when  they  had  lost  sight 
of  their  unpleasant  acquaintances. 

"  JSTavajos,"  was  the  answer. 

They  were  indeed  a  wretched  band  of  the  once 
wealthy  and  powerful  tribe  who  claimed  that 
whole  country  as  a  pasture-land  for  their  count 
less  flocks  and  herds.  For  many  years  they  had 
been  hunted  and  killed,  their  flocks  driven  off 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

and  their  growing  crops  destroyed  wherever 
found,  until  now  the  main  body  of  the  tribe 
was  being  slowly  starved  out  of  existence  on  a 
small  reservation  in  Eastern  New  Mexico.  It 
was  so  small  that  no  more  Indians  could  be 
crowded  into  it,  and  the  miserable  remnant,  who 
still  lurked  in  the  fastnesses  of  their  own  coun 
try,  despoiled  of  all  means  of  procuring  a  liveli 
hood,  prowled  about  like  so  many  hungry  dogs, 
gleaning  the  offal  from  white  men's  camps,  and 
hunted  like  wild  beasts  by  all  whom  they  were 
unfortunate  enough  to  meet. 

This  band  had  probably  followed  Mr.  Hobart's 
party  for  the  sake  of  what  might  be  picked  up 
in  their  abandoned  camps,  and  had  evidently  re 
garded  the  poisoned  meat,  discovered  that  very 
morning,  as  a  perfect  godsend. 

"  I  reckon  we'll  have  to  manage  somehow  to 
get  along  without  any  wolves,"  said  "Billy" 
Brackett. 

"Yes,"  replied  Glen,  regretfully,  "I  suppose 
we  shall." 

Ten  miles  of  line  were  run  that  day,  through 
the  solemn  pine  forest,  and  darkness  overtook 
the  party  on  the  very  summit  of  the  great  Con 
tinental  Divide.  They  were  crossing  the  Sierra 
Madre  Mountains,  through  Zuni  Pass.  As  Glen 
subtracted  the  last  reading  of  his  rod  for  the 


%86  Campmates. 

day  from  the  last  height  of  instrument,  and 
found  that  it  gave  an  elevation  of  7925  feet,  he 
uttered  a  shout.  For  weeks  the  elevations  above 
sea-level  had  been  steadily  mounting  upward. 
This  one  was  a  foot  lower  than  the  last. 

"Hurrah!"  he  cried,  "we  are  on  the  Pacific 
Slope." 

It  was  hard  to  realize  that  water,  on  one  side 
of  where  they  stood,  would  find  its  way  into  the 
Kio  Grande,  and  so  on  into  the  Atlantic,  while 
that  but  a  few  feet  away  would  flow  through 
the  Colorado  into  the  Pacific.  The  country  did 
not  look  any  different,  but  it  seemed  so.  They 
actually  seemed  to  be  breathing  the  air  of  the 
mighty  sunset  ocean,  and  this  one  day's  run 
seemed  to  place  the  States,  and  everything  east 
ern,  farther  behind  them  than  all  the  rest  of 
their  journey.  About  the  camp-fires  that  even 
ing  the  conversation  was  wholly  of  California 
and  the  golden  West,  and  they  sprang  to  their 
work  the  next  day  with  an  added  zeal. 

Fifty  miles  west  of  this  point  they  came  to 
Zufii,  one  of  the  most  picturesque  and  by  far 
the  most  interesting  of  American  towns.  First, 
though,  a  few  miles  east  of  Zuni,  they  halted  be 
side  the  magnificent  pile  of  El  Moro,  or  Inscrip 
tion  Rock,  that  lifted  its  frowning  battlements, 
like  those  of  some  vast  Moorish  castle,  four  hun- 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

dred  feet  above  the  plain.  Its  base  is  covered, 
on  all  sides,  with  Indian  hieroglyphics,  Spanish 
inscriptions,  and  English  names.  Curiously,  and 
almost  reverently,  our  explorers  bent  down  the 
brushwood  near  its  left-hand  corner,  and  searched 
until  they  found  the  most  ancient  inscription 

of  all : 

"Don  Joseph  de  Basconzeles  1526." 

There  is  nothing  more,  and  this  is  the  sole  ex 
isting  record  of  Don  Joseph's  having  lived  and 
explored  this  country  while  Cortez  was  still 
occupying  the  city  of  Mexico.  Where  he  came 
from,  who  he  was,  what  companions  he  had,  and 
whither  he  went  will  never  be  known;  but 
through  all  the  centuries  that  have  passed  since 
he  carved  his  name  on  El  Moro's  base,  the  great 
rock  has  faithfully  preserved  the  record  of  his 
presence. 

The  next  inscription  was  made  nearly  one  hun 
dred  years  later,  and  is  a  Spanish  legend  that  is 
translated  into,  "  Passed  by  this  place  with  de 
spatches,  April  16,  1606."  There  is  no  name 
signed,  and  who  passed  by  on  that  day  can 
never  be  told.  Then  follows  innumerable  names 
of  Spanish  dons,  captains,  bishops,  soldiers,  and 
priests,  with  varying  dates  that  come  down  as 
late  as  the  beginning  of  the  present  century. 

The  first  English  inscription  is,  "  0.  K.,  March 


288  Campmates. 

19,  1836."  Then  came  Whipple,  in  1853,  fol 
lowed  by  many  other  American  soldiers  and 
gold -seekers.  Now  Glen  Eddy  and  "  Billy" 
Brackett  added  their  names  beneath  those  of 
the  others  of  Mr.  Hobart's  party.  Then  they, 
too,  passed  on,  leaving  a  new  page  of  history  to 
be  preserved  by  El  Moro  for  the  eyes  of  future 
generations. 

For  some  hours  before  reaching  Zuni  they 
could  see  it  crowning  the  hill  that  uplifts  it 
conspicuously  above  the  level  of  the  surround 
ing  plain.  It  was  the  "Cibola"  of  the  earli 
est  Spanish  explorers,  the  chief  of  the  seven 
"golden  cities"  that  they  believed  to  exist  in 
that  region,  and  whose  alleged  riches  led  them 
to  undertake  the  conquest  of  the  country.  They 
called  it  "Cibola"  until  they  reached  it.  Then 
they  adopted  the  native  name  of  Zuni  (pro 
nounced  Zoorb-yd),  by  which  it  has  been  known 
ever  since. 

The  town,  or  city,  contained  some  twelve 
hundred  inhabitants,  and  the  hill  on  which  it 
is  built  slopes  gently  up  from  the  plain  on 
one  side,  but  falls  away  in  a  precipitous  bluff  to 
the  narrow  waters  of  the  Zuni  River  on  the 
other. 

"  Billy  "  Brackett  had  read  up  on  this  ancient 
city  of  Cibola,  and  had  imparted  so  much  of  his 


A  Story  of  the  Flaws.  289 

information  to  Glen  as  to  arouse  a  curiosity  in 
the  boy's  mind  regarding  the  place  fully  equal 
to  his  own.  So,  as  soon  as  they  reached  camp, 
which  was  on  the  plain  at  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
they  hurried  off  to  "  do  "  the  town. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

ZUNI,  THE    HOME    OF   THE   AZTECS. 

As  the  leveller  and  his  rodman  ascended  the 
slope  on  which  Zufii  is  built,  they  saw  that  the 
town  reached  entirely  across  it,  and  seemingly 
presented  a  blank  wall  of  irregular  heights,  con 
taining  only  two  or  three  low  arched  openings. 
A  ladder,  here  and  there,  reached  from  the  ground 
to  a  flat  terrace  on  top  of  the  wall ;  but  evident 
ly  the  means  of  entering  the  place  were  few,  and 
could  readily  be  made  less.  Outside  of  the  wall 
were  long  ranges  of  corrals,  fenced  with  poles, 
set  close  together,  and  fixed  firmly  in  the  ground. 
These  poles,  which  were  of  all  lengths,  and  the 
tops  of  ladders  projecting  everywhere  above  the 
roofs  of  the  town,  gave  the  place  a  peculiarly 
ragged  and  novel  appearance.  Glen  wondered 
at  the  height  of  the  buildings,  most  of  which 
were  of  five  or  six  stories,  and  what  the  ladders 
were  for. 

Seeing  no  other  way  of  gaining  an  entrance, 
they  followed  an  Indian,  who  led  a  burro  bear 
ing  an  immense  load  of  fagots  on  his  back,  into 


A  Story  of  the  Flams.  291 

one  of  the  dark  arched  passages  through  the  wall. 
It  was  just  wide  enough  to  admit  the  laden  don 
key,  and  so  low  that,  as  they  followed  him,  they 
were  obliged  to  stoop  to  avoid  striking  their 
heads  against  its  roof.  It  was  so  long  that  it 
evidently  led  beneath  an  entire  block  of  houses. 

Finally  they  emerged  from  its  darkness  into 
one  of  the  most  novel  plazas,  or  squares,  of  the 
world.  It  was  surrounded  by  buildings  of  several 
stories  in  height,  but  very  few  of  them  had  any 
doors,  while  the  tiny  windows  of  the  lower  stories 
were  placed  high  up,  beyond  a  man's  reach.  On 
the  flat  roof  of  the  lower  house,  or  first  story,  a 
second  house  was  built ;  but  it  was  so  much  nar 
rower  than  the  first  as  to  leave  a  broad  walk  on 
the  roof  in  front  of  it.  Above  this  second  house 
rose  a  third,  fourth,  fifth,  and  often  a  sixth,  each 
one  narrower  than  the  one  beneath  it,  so  that  the 
whole  looked  like  a  gigantic  flight  of  steps. 

These  houses  were  built  either  of  adobe  or  of 
stone,  plastered  over  with  adobe  mud ;  and  near 
ly  all  those  on  the  ground  floor  were  entered,  as 
Kobinson  Crusoe  entered  his  castle,  by  climbing 
a  ladder  to  the  roof,  and  descending  another  that 
led  down  through  a  skylight.  Thus,  if  an  enemy 
should  succeed  in  forcing  his  way  through  the 
narrow  tunnel  into  the  plaza,  the  people  would 
merely  retire  to  their  house-tops,  draw  up  their 


298  '  Campmates. 

ladders,  and  he  would  finjl  it  as  hard  to  get  at 
them  as  ever. 

The  upper  tiers  of  houses  had  doors  opening 
on  the  roofs  of  those  below  them ;  but  ladders 
were  necessary  to  climb  up  from  one  terrace  to 
another,  so  that  they  were  everywhere  the  most 
prominent  feature  of  the  place. 

There  were  but  few  of  the  inhabitants  in  the 
plaza,  or  in  the  narrow  lanes  leading  from  it  to 
other  open  squares;  but  they  swarmed  on  the 
flat  house-tops,  and  gazed  down  on  our  friends  as 
eagerly  as  the  latter  gazed  up  at  them.  Ameri 
cans  were  curiosities  to  the  people  of  Zuni  in  those 
days. 

"  Hello !"  exclaimed  Glen,  as  they  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  plaza,  wondering  which  way  they 
should  go.  "Here  come  some  white  fellows 
dressed  up  like  Indians.  I  wonder  who  they  can 
be?" 

Sure  enough,  two  young  men,  having  white 
skins,  blue  eyes,  and  yellow  hair,  but  wearing  the 
leggings  and  striped  blankets  of  Indians,  entered 
the  square  as  Glen  spoke.  He  shouted  to  them, 
both  in  English  and  Mexican,  but  they  only 
glanced  at  him  in  a  startled  manner,  and  then, 
hurriedly  climbing  the  nearest  ladder,  they  joined 
a  group  who  were  curiously  inspecting  Glen  and 
his  companion  from  a  roof. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  293 

"  Well !  that  is  queer,"  said  the  former.  "  Who 
do  you  suppose  those  chaps  are  ?" 

"  I  shouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised  if  they  were 
two  of  the  white  Indians  I  have  read  of,"  an 
swered  "  Billy  "  Brackett ;  "  and,  if  so,  they  are 
the  greatest  curiosities  we'll  see  in  this  town." 

"  I  never  heard  of  them,"  said  Glen.  u  Where 
did  they  come  from  ?" 

"  That's  more  than  I  can  tell,  or  anybody  else. 
All  we  know  is  that  the  earliest  Spaniards  found 
a  race  of  white  people  living  among  the  Pueblo 
Indians,  whom  they  describe  as  being  exactly 
like  these  chaps  grinning  at  us  from  that  roof. 
In  one  respect  they  are  a  distinct  race,  as  they 
have  never  been  allowed  to  marry  with  the  dark- 
skinned  Indians ;  but  in  every  other  respect  they 
are  thorough  Puebloes,  and  there  is  no  tradition 
going  back  far  enough  to  show  that  they  were 
ever  anything  else.  I  believe  that  the  race  is 
nearly  extinct,  and  that  they  are  now  so  few  in 
number  as  to  be  rarely  seen." 

In  this  "  Billy "  Brackett  was  correct ;  for  at 
that  time  there  were  but  three  of  those  white 
Indians  in  Zuni,  two  men  and  a  woman. 

Before  leaving  this  remarkable  town  of  curious 
people,  Glen  discovered  that  they  kept  eagles  for 
pets,  and  were  also  very  fond  of  snakes,  especially 
rattlesnakes,  which  they  did  not  hesitate  to  han- 


Campmates. 

die  freely  and  even  to  hold  in  their  mouths.  He 
saw  the  entire  population  turn  out  on  the  flat 
roofs  of  their  houses  at  daybreak,  and,  facing  the 
east,  patiently  await  the  coming  of  Montezuma, 
whom  they  firmly  believed  would  appear  some 
morning  in  the  place  of  the  sun.  He  heard  of, 
but  was  not  allowed  to  see,  the  perpetual  fire, 
lighted  by  Montezuma,  that  has  been  kept  burn 
ing  for  ages  by  a  family  of  priests,  set  apart  and 
supported  by  the  people  for  that  particular  pur 
pose.  He  saw  women  grinding  corn  into  fine 
white  meal  between  two  stones,  and  baking  it 
into  delicious  thin  cakes  on  another.  He  saw 
them  weaving  blankets,  of  sheep's  wool,  so  fine 
that  they  will  hold  water  for  a  whole  day,  and 
so  strong  that  they  will  last  a  long  lifetime.  He 
ate  some  of  the  white  dried  peaches  and  other 
fruits  that  these  Indians  raise  in  such  abundance 
and  prepare  with  such  skill.  And  what  pleased 
him  more  than  anything  else  was  that,  in  ex 
change  for  two  flour-sacks  and  a  small  piece  of 
bacon,  one  of  the  Indians  made  him  a  fine  buck 
skin  shirt,  very  much  adorned  with  fringes,  that 
he  wore  all  the  rest  of  the  winter. 

It  certainly  was  a  most  interesting  place,  and 
the  whole  party  would  gladly  have  lingered  there 
longer  than  the  three  days  that  could  be  spared 
to  it.  But  it  was  nr>w  November,  and  they  must 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  295 

be  beyond  the  San  Francisco  Mountains  before 
the  passes  were  blocked  with  heavy  snows.  So 
they  bade  good-bye  to  Zufii  and  New  Mexico,  and, 
taking  their  way  past  Jacob's  Well,  where  a  fine 
spring  bubbles  up  at  the  bottom  of  a  funnel-shaped 
pit,  six  hundred  feet  across  at  the  top,  and  a  hun 
dred  and  fifty  feet  deep,  they  entered  the  little- 
known  region  of  Northern  Arizona. 

For  three  months  they  toiled  through  that  wild 
country,  as  lost  to  the  view  and  knowledge  of 
white  civilization  as  though  they  were  running 
their  line  through  Central  Africa.  Then  they 
emerged  on  the  bank  of  the  mighty  Colorado, 
and,  looking  across  its  turbid  flood,  saw  the  bar 
ren  wastes  of  the  Great  Colorado  Desert;  but 
they  gave  a  shout  of  joy  at  the  sight,  for,  with 
all  its  dreariness  of  aspect,  that  was  California, 
and  beyond  it  lay  the  Pacific,  the  goal  of  their 
hopes. 

The  last  three  months  had  been  filled  with  toil, 
hardships,  and  adventure.  Although  in  that  time 
they  saw  no  white  men,  nor  men  of  any  kind  be 
yond  catching  occasional  glimpses  of  the  stealthy 
Apaches,  who  hung  on  their  trail  for  weeks,  and 
with  whom  they  exchanged  more  than  one  rifle 
shot,  they  were  never  without  evidences  that 
this  whole  vast  country  had  once  been  occupied 
by  a  mighty  people.  Hardly  a  day  passed  that 


Campmates. 

Glen  did  not  hold  his  rod  on  the  ruined  founda 
tion-wall  of  some  huge  structure  of  long  ago,  or 
stumble  over  heaps  of  broken  pottery  graceful  in 
form  and  design,  or  gaze  wonderingly  at  the  stone 
houses  of  ancient  cliff-dwellers  perched  on  ledges 
now  inaccessible,  or  walk  in  the  dry  beds  of  crum 
bling  aqueducts,  or  select  choice  specimens  from 
piles  of  warlike  implements  fashioned  from  shin 
ing  crystal  or  milk-white  quartz,  or,  in  some  way, 
have  his  attention  called  to  the  fact  that  he  was 
traversing  a  country  in  which  had  dwelt  millions 
of  his  kind,  who  had  long  since  passed  away  and 
been  forgotten.  He  had  puzzled  over  miles  of 
hieroglyphic  inscriptions  and  rude  pictures,  drawn 
on  the  smooth  black  walls  of  rugged  canons,  and 
learned  from  them  fragmentary  tales  of  ancient 
battles  or  of  encounters  with  savage  beasts. 

Then,  too,  he  had  known  hunger  and  thirst 
and  bitter  cold.  His  Christmas  dinner,  eaten 
during  a  short  pause  from  work  on  the  line,  had 
been  a  bit  of  spoiled  bacon  and  a  couple  of  wormy 
hard-tack,  with  which,  in  honor  of  the  day,  he 
had  his  full  share  of  "  Billy"  Brackett's  treasured 
cheese,  brought  out  at  last  to  grace  this  feast. 
Not  only  were  their  provisions  nearly  exhausted 
at  that  time,  but  it  was  the  fifth  day  on  which 
they  had  been  unable  to  wash,  for  want  of  water. 
Two  weeks  before,  a  wagon  had  been  sent  to  the 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  297 

mining-camp  of  Prescott,  nearly  a  hundred  miles 
away,  and  they  had  nearly  given  up  all  hopes  of 
its  safe  return.  That  night  it  came  into  camp, 
and  that  night,  too,  they  found  a  number  of  rook 
cisterns  full  of  water.  In  the  darkness  of  that 
same  evening,  while  hastening  from  the  pool  in 
which  he  had  been  bathing,  to  get  his  share  of 
the  Christmas  supper,  poor  Glen  had  run  plump 
into  a  gigantic  cactus,  and  filled  his  body  with 
its  tiny,  barbed  thorns.  Altogether  it  was  a 
memorable  Christmas,  and  one  he  will  never 
forget. 

On  the  last  night  of  December  they  built  a 
gigantic  bonfire  of  whole  trees,  and  welcomed  in 
the  new  year  by  the  light  of  its  leaping  flames. 

They  had  passed  through  vast  tracts  of  won 
derful  fertility  and  beauty,  unknown  to  white 
men,  and  through  regions  abounding  in  game 
that  they  had  no  time  to  hunt.  From  the  sum 
mit  of  the  Aztec  Pass  they  had  gazed,  with  dis 
may,  over  the  boundless  expanse  of  the  Black 
Forest,  and  then  had  plunged  into  its  dark 
depths.  They  had  threaded  their  way  through 
labyrinths  of  precipitous  canons,  the  walls  of 
which  rose  thousands  of  feet  above  their  heads, 
and  had  known  of  others  still  more  tremendous. 

They  had  waded  through  the  snows  of  the 
San  Francisco  Mountains,  and  revelled  in  the 


%98  Campmates. 

warmth  and  beauty  of  the  superb  Yal  de  Chino, 
where  snow  and  ice  are  unknown.  They  had 
dodged  the  crashing  boulders  hurled  down  on 
them  in  Union  Pass  by  the  Hualapi  Indians, 
posted  on  the  inaccessible  heights  far  above 
them.  Here  they  had  lost  a  wagon,  crushed  to 
splinters  by  one  of  these  masses  of  rock ;  but  no 
lives  had  been  sacrificed,  and  their  number  was 
still  the  same  as  when  they  left  the  Eio  Grande. 
Now  they  were  on  the  bank  of  the  Colorado, 
with  only  one  desert  and  one  range  of  mountains 
yet  to  cross.  These  seemed  so  little,  after  all 
they  had  gone  through;  and  yet  that  desert 
alone  was  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  wide. 
Two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  sand,  sage-brush, 
and  alkali;  the  most  barren  region  of  country 
within  the  limits  of  the  United  States.  If  they 
could  have  looked  ahead  and  seen  what  the  cross 
ing  of  that  desert  meant,  they  would  have  en 
tered  upon  the  undertaking  with  heavy  hearts 
and  but  faint  hopes  of  accomplishing  it.  How 
fortunate  it  is  that  we  cannot  look  ahead  and 
see  the  trials  that  await  us.  We  would  never 
dare  face  them  if  they  should  all  appear  to  us  at 
once ;  while,  by  meeting  them  singly,  and  attack 
ing  them  one  by  one,  they  are  overcome  with 
comparative  ease. 
But  neither  Glen  nor  his  companions  were 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  299 

thinking  of  the  trials  ahead  of  them  as  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  Colorado  River.  They  were 
only  thinking  of  those  left  behind,  and  what  a 
glorious  thing  it  was  to  have  got  thus  far  along 
in  their  tremendous  journey.  The  transit-party 
had  run  their  line  to  the  river's  bank  and  gone 
to  camp  a  mile  or  so  below,  when  the  levellers 
came  up,  and  Glen  held  his  rod,  for  a  final  read 
ing,  at  the  water's  edge. 

He  had  just  noted  the  figures  in  his  book,  and 
waved  an  "  All  right"  to  "  Billy"  Brackett,  when 
he  was  startled  by  a  rush  of  hoofs  and  a  joyous 
shout.  The  next  instant  a  horse  was  reined 
sharply  up  beside  him,  while  its  rider  was  wring 
ing  his  hand  and  uttering  almost  incoherent 
words  of  extravagant  joy  at  once  more  seeing 
him. 


CHAPTER  XXXYIL 

A  PRACTICAL  USE   OF   TRIGONOMETRY. 

IT  was  Binney  Gibbs  who  had  come  up  the 
river  from  Fort  Yuma  several  days  before,  with 
General  Elting,  to  meet  the  second  division, 
and  guide  them  to  "  The  Needles,"  the  point  at 
which  the  line  was  to  cross  the  Colorado.  The 
other  divisions,  which  had  followed  the  Gila  route, 
and  crossed  the  Colorado  at  Fort  Yuma,  where 
the  desert  was  narrower,  had  reached  the  Pacific 
ere  this,  and  gone  on  to  San  Francisco.  The 
hardest  task  of  all,  that  of  running  a  line  over 
the  desert  where  it  was  two  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  wide,  had  been  reserved  for  Mr.  Hobart's 
men,  who  had  proved  themselves  so  capable  of 
enduring  and  overcoming  hardships. 

Binney  had  waited  impatiently  in  camp  until 
the  transit-party  reached  it,  expecting  to  see  Glen 
ride  in  at  its  head  with  the  front  flag.  Then  he 
had  borrowed  a  horse,  and  set  forth  to  find  the 
boy  whom  he  had  once  considered  his  rival,  but 
whom  he  now  regarded  as  one  of  his  best  friends. 

After  the  first  exchange  of  greetings,  they 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  301 

stood  and  looked  at  each  other  curiously.  Glen's 
hair  hung  on  his  shoulders,  and  the  braid  that 
bound  the  brim  of  his  sombrero  was  worn  to  a 
picturesque  fringe,  matching  that  of  his  buck 
skin  shirt.  He  was  broader  and  browner  than 
ever ;  and  though  his  face  was  still  smooth  and 
boyish,  these  last  three  months  had  stamped  it 
with  a  look  of  resolute  energy  that  Binney  no 
ticed  at  once. 

He,  too,  was  brown,  though  not  nearly  so  tanned 
as  Glen,  in  spite  of  the  burning  suns  of  the  Gila 
Valley ;  for  his  work  had  kept  him  under  cover 
as  much  as  Glen's  had  kept  him  in  the  open  air. 
As  General  Siting's  secretary,  Binney  had  spent 
most  of  his  time  in  the  ambulance,  that,  fitted 
up  with  writing-desk  and  table,  was  the  chief  - 
engineer's  field-office,  or  in  temporary  offices  es 
tablished  in  tents  or  houses  wherever  they  had 
halted  for  more  than  a  day  at  a  time.  He  had 
evidently  met  with  barbers  along  the  compara 
tively  well-travelled  Gila ;  while,  as  compared  with 
Glen's  picturesquely  ragged  costume,  his  was  that 
of  respectable  civilization.  Although  he,  too,  was 
the  picture  of  health,  his  frame  lacked  the  breadth 
and  fulness  of  Glen's,  and  it  was  evident  at  a 
glance  that,  in  the  matter  of  physical  strength, 
he  was  even  more  greatly  the  other's  inferior 
than  when  they  left  Brimfield. 


302  Campmates. 

Glen  could  not  help  noting  this  with  a  feeling 
of  secret  satisfaction ;  but,  as  they  rode  towards 
camp  together,  and  Binney  described  his  win 
ter's  experiences,  Glen  began  to  regard  him  with 
vastly  increased  respect.  He  thought  he  had 
studied  hard,  and  done  well  to  master  the  mys 
teries  of  adjusting  and  running  a  level,  perfect 
ing  himself  as  a  rodman,  and  learning  to  plot  pro 
file  ;  but  his  knowledge  appeared  insignificant  as 
compared  with  that  which  Binney  had  picked  up 
and  stored  away.  Not  only  had  he  learned  to 
speak  Spanish  fluently,  but  he  had  become  enough 
of  a  geologist  to  talk  understandingly  of  coal- 
seams  and  ore-beds.  He  had  the  whole  histo 
ry  of  the  country  through  which  he  had  passed, 
from  the  date  of  its  Spanish  discovery,  at  his 
tongue's  end.  He  spoke  familiarly  of  the  nota 
ble  men  to  whom,  at  General  Siting's  dicta 
tion,  he  had  written  letters,  and  altogether  he 
appeared  to  be  a  self-possessed,  well-informed 
young  man  of  the  world. 

Poor  Glen  was  beginning  to  feel  very  boyish 
and  quite  abashed  in  the  presence  of  so  much 
wisdom,  and  to  wonder  if  he  had  not  been  wast 
ing  his  opportunities  on  this  trip  as  he  had  those 
of  school.  His  thoughts  were  inclining  towards 
a  decidedly  unpleasant  turn,  when  they  were  sud 
denly  set  right  again  by  Binney,  who  exclaimed, 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  303 

"  But,  I  say,  old  man,  what  a  fine  thing  you  fel 
lows  have  done  this  winter!  The  general  de 
clares  that  you  have  made  one  of  the  most  nota 
ble  surveys  on  record ;  and  it's  a  thing  every  one 
of  you  ought  to  be  proud  of.  You  should  have 
heard  him  congratulate  Mr.  Hobart.  He  asked 
at  once  about  you,  too,  and  wants  to  see  you  as 
soon  as  you  get  in.  He  seems  to  take  a  great  in 
terest  in  you,  and  has  spoken  of  you  several  times. 
I  expect,  if  you  choose  to  keep  on  in  this  business, 
you  can  always  be  sure  of  a  job  through  him. 
He  seems  to  think  it  queer  that  you  should  be  a 
year  older  than  I  am ;  but  I  told  him  it  was  cer 
tainly  so,  because  I  knew  just  when  your  birth* 
day  came." 

Glen  was  on  the  point  of  saying  that,  if  Binney 
knew  that,  it  was  more  than  he  did,  but  some, 
thing  kept  him  silent.  He  hated  to  acknowl 
edge  that  he  knew  nothing  of  his  real  birthday, 
nor  how  old  he  really  was,  but  he  wondered  if  he 
could  truly  be  a  year  older  than  this  wise  young 
secretary. 

At  this  point  the  conversation  was  interrupted 
by  their  arrival  at  camp,  and  by  General  Elting 
stepping  from  his  tent  to  give  Glen  a  hearty 
handshake  as  he  exclaimed, 

"My  dear  boy,  I  am  delighted  and  thankful 
to  see  you  again.  I  tried  to  persuade  our  friend 


304  Campmates. 

Mr.  Hobart,  when  I  last  saw  him  at  Santa  Fe, 
that,  in  spite  of  your  performance  on  that  rail 
road  ride  you  and  I  took  together  last  summer, 
you  were  too  young  to  make  the  trip  I  had  laid 
out  for  him.  He  said  he  didn't  know  anything 
about  your  age,  but  that  you  were  certainly 
strong  and  plucky  enough  for  the  trip.  I  made 
him  promise,  though,  to  try  and  induce  you  to 
go  back  from  Isletta;  but  he  doesn't  seem  to 
have  succeeded." 

"  No,  sir,"  laughed  Glen,  « and  I'm  awfuUy 
glad  he  didn't,  for  it's  been  the  most  glorious 
kind  of  a  trip,  and  I  have  enjoyed  every  minute 
of  it." 

"  I  am  glad,  toe,  now  that  it  is  all  over ;  but  I 
must  tell  you  that,  if  I  had  not  been  assured  that 
you  were  a  whole  year  older  than  my  young  sec 
retary  here,  I  should  have  insisted  on  your  going 
back,  for  I  considered  it  too  hard  and  dangerous 
a  trip  for  a  boy  so  young  as  I  had  supposed  you 
to  be  until  then." 

Here  was  another  good  reason  why  Glen  was 
glad  he  had  remained  silent  on  the  subject  of  his 
birthday. 

"Now  what  do  you  think  of  running  a  line 
across  the  desert  ahead  of  us?"  continued  the 
chief -engineer ;  "  are  you  as  anxious  to  undertake 
that  as  you  were  to  cross  Arizona  ?" 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  305 

"  Yes,  indeed,  I  am,  sir,"  replied  Glen,  earnestly. 
"  I  am  anxious  to  go  wherever  the  second  divis 
ion  goes;  and  if  anybody  can  get  a  line  across 
that  desert,  I  know  we  can." 

"  I  believe  you  can,"  said  the  chief,  smiling  at 
the  boy's  enthusiasm,  "  and  I  am  going  along  to 
see  how  you  do  it." 

The  Colorado  was  so  broad,  deep,  and  swift 
that  Glen  wondered  how  they  were  going  to 
measure  across  it,  and  had  a  vague  idea  that  it 
could  be  done  by  stretching  a  long  rope  from 
bank  to  bank.  He  asked  "  Billy  "  Brackett ;  and 
when  the  leveller  answered,  "  By  triangulation, 
of  course,"  Glen  showed,  by  his  puzzled  expres 
sion,  that  he  was  as  much  in  the  dark  as  ever. 

"You  have  studied  geometry  and  trigonome 
try,  haven't  you  ?"  asked  the  leveller. 

Glen  was  obliged  to  confess  that,  as  he  had  not 
been  able  to  see  the  use  of  those  studies,  he  had 
not  paid  much  attention  to  them. 

"  Well,  then,  perhaps  you'll  have  a  better  opin 
ion  of  old  Euclid  when  you  see  the  practical  use 
we'll  put  him  to  to-morrow,"  laughed  "Billy" 
Brackett. 

Glen  did  see,  the  next  day,  and  wondered  at 
the  simplicity  of  the  operation.  The  front  flag 
was  sent  across  the  river  in  a  boat,  and  on  the 
opposite  side  he  drove  a  stake.  While  he  was 


306  Campmcdes. 

thus  engaged,  a  line  a  quarter  of  a  mile  long 
was  measured  on  the  bank  where  the  rest  of 
the  party  still  remained,  and  a  stake  was  driven 
at  each  end  of  it.  The  transit  was  set  up  over 
one  of  these  stakes,  and  its  telescope  was  pointed 
first  at  the  other  and  then  at  the  one  across  the 
river,  by  which  means  the  angle  where  it  stood  was 
taken.  It  was  then  set  over  the  stake  at  the  other 
end  of  the  measured  line,  and  that  angle  was  also 
taken.  Then  Mr.  Hobart  drew,  on  a  leaf  of  his 
transit-book,  a  triangle,  of  which  the  base  repre 
sented  the  line  measured  between  the  two  stakes 
on  his  side  of  the  river,  and  one  side  represented 
the  distance  across  the  river  that  he  wished  to 
find.  He  thus  had  one  side  and  two  angles  of  a 
triangle  given  to  find  one  of  the  other  two  sides, 
and  he  solved  the  problem  as  easily  as  any  boy 
or  girl  of  the  trigonometry- class  can  whose  time 
in  school  has  not  been  wasted  as  Glen  Eddy's 
was. 

It  was  a  simple  operation,  and  one  easily  per 
formed,  but  it  involved  a  knowledge  of  the  four 
fundamental  rules  of  arithmetic,  of  proportion, 
or  the  rule  of  three,  of  geometry,  of  trigonome 
try,  and  of  how  to  use  a  surveyor's  transit ;  all  of 
which,  except  the  last,  are  included  in  the  regular 
course  of  studies  of  every  boy  and  girl  in  America 
who  receives  a  common-aohool  education. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  307 

Glen  had  also  been  sent  across  the  river,  where 
he  held  his  rod  so  high  up  on  the  bank  that  the 
cross  hair  in  the  telescope  of  the  level  cut  just  one 
tenth  of  an  inch  above  its  bottom.  Then,  when 
"  Billy  "  Brackett  came  over,  and  went  on  beyond 
Glen,  he  set  the  level  up  so  high  on  the  bank 
that,  through  it,  he  could  just  see  the  top  of  the 
rod,  extended  to  its  extreme  length.  So  they 
climbed  slowly  up  out  of  the  Colorado  Valley, 
and  began  to  traverse  the  dreary  country  that 
lay  between  it  and  the  Sierra  Nevada. 

For  the  first  hundred  miles  or  so  they  got  along 
very  well,  so  far  as  water  was  concerned,  though 
the  mules  and  horses  speedily  began  to  grow  thin 
and  weak  for  want  of  food.  The  patches  of  grass 
were  very  few  and  far  between,  and  the  rations 
of  corn  exceedingly  small;  for  in  that  country 
corn  was  worth  its  weight  in  gold,  and  scarce  at 
that. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

DYING   OF   THIRST  IN  THE    DESERT. 

MATTERS  were  bad  enough  by  the  time  Mr. 
Hobart's  party  reached  Camp  Cady,  nearly  half 
way  across  the  desert ;  but,  from  there  on,  they 
became  much  worse.  The  line  could  no  longer 
follow  the  winding  government  trail,  but  must 
be  run  straight  for  the  distant  mountains,  that 
were  now  plainly  to  be  seen. 

This  experience  vividly  recalled  that  of  the 
preceding  summer,  when  they  were  crossing  the 
Plains  towards  the  Kocky  Mountains,  and  long 
ing  so  eagerly  to  reach  them.  But  this  was  in 
finitely  worse  than  that.  There  they  generally 
found  water  that  was  sweet  and  fit  to  drink,  and 
always  had  plenty  of  grass  for  their  stock.  Here 
they  rarely  found  water,  and  when  they  did  it 
was  nearly  always  so  strongly  impregnated  with 
salt,  soda,  and  alkali  as  to  be  unfit  to  drink. 
Here,  too,  instead  of  grass,  they  found  only  sand, 
sage  brush,  greasewood,  and  cacti.  To  be  sure 
the  greasewood  was  a  comfort,  because  it  burned 
just  as  readily  green  as  dry,  and  in  certain  of  the 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  309 

cacti,  round  ones  covered  with  long  curved  spines, 
they  could  nearly  always  find  a  mouthful  of 
water,  but  none  of  these  things  afforded  any 
nourishment  for  the  hungry  animals.  They  be 
came  so  ravenous  that  they  gnawed  off  one  anoth 
er's  manes  and  tails,  chewed  up  the  wagon  covers, 
and  every  other  piece  of  cloth  they  could  get 
hold  of.  Then  they  began  to  die  so  fast  from 
starvation  and  exhaustion  that  some  dead  ones 
were  left  behind  with  every  camp,  and  each  day 
the  number  was  increased. 

At  nearly  every  camp,  too,  a  wagon  was  aban 
doned,  and  for  miles  they  could  look  back  and 
see  its  white  cover,  looming  above  the  dreary 
expanse  of  sand  and  sage,  like  a  monument  to 
the  faithful  animals  that  had  fallen  beside  it.  At 
length  but  one  wagon  and  the  two  ambulances 
were  left.  Tents,  baggage,  clothing,  all  the  bed 
ding  except  one  blanket  apiece,  and  the  greater 
part  of  their  provisions,  had  been  thrown  away, 
or  left  in  the  abandoned  wagons.  Within  forty 
miles  of  the  mountains  they  gave  up  work  on  the 
line.  The  men  had  no  longer  the  strength  to 
drag  the  chain  or  carry  the  instruments.  They 
still  noted  their  course  by  compass,  and  the  height 
of  various  elevations  as  they  crossed  them,  by 
the  barometer.  They  were  even  able  to  meas 
ure  the  distance  from  one  sad  camping -place 


310  Campmates. 

to  another,  by  means  of  the  odometer,  an  instru 
ment  that,  attached  to  a  wagon -wheel,  records 
the  number  of  revolutions  made  by  it.  This 
number,  multiplied  by  the  circumference  of  the 
wheel,  gave  them  the  distance  in  feet  and  inches. 
Everybody  was  now  on  foot,  even  the  chief's 
saddle-horse,  Senor,  and  Glen's  Nettle  being  har 
nessed  to  one  of  the  ambulances. 

At  last,  when  the  mountains  appeared  tanta- 
lizingly  near,  but  when  they  were  still  nearly 
twenty  miles  away,  it  seemed  as  though  the  end 
had  come.  For  two  days  neither  men  nor  ani 
mals  had  tasted  a  drop  of  water.  At  the  close 
of  the  second  day,  a  slight  elevation  had  disclosed 
a  lake  lying  at  their  feet,  glowing  in  the  red 
beams  of  the  setting  sun.  With  feeble  strength 
they  had  rushed  to  it,  and  flung  themselves  into 
its  tempting  waters.  They  were  as  salt  as  brine, 
and,  with  this  bitter  disappointment,  came  de 
spair.  They  lighted  fires  and  made  coffee  with 
the  brackish  water  that  oozed  into  holes  dug  in 
the  salt-encrusted  sand,  but  it  sickened  them,  and 
they  could  not  drink  it. 

Their  lips  were  cracked,  their  tongues  swollen, 
their  throats  like  dry  leather,  and  their  voices 
were  hardly  more  than  husky  whispers. 

As  the  moon  rose  that  evening,  and  poured  its 
cold  light  on  the  outstretched  forms  grouped 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  311 

about  the  solitary,  white-sheeted  wagon,  a  hand 
was  laid  on  Glen's  shoulder,  and  the  chief's  voice 
bade  the  boy  rise  and  follow  him.  Leading  the 
way  to  the  ambulance  in  which  Binney  Gibbs 
slept  the  sleep  of  utter  exhaustion  and  despair, 
and  to  which  the  horses  Senor  and  Nettle  were 
fastened,  the  general  said, 

"  There  is  but  one  hope  left  for  us,  Matherson. 
It  is  certain  that  some  of  the  party  have  not 
strength  enough  to  carry  them  to  the  mountains, 
and  equally  so  that,  without  water,  the  teams 
can  never  reach  there.  In  the  valleys  of  these 
mountains  are  streams,  and  on  these  streams  are 
ranches.  If  we  can  get  word  to  one  of  these, 
the  entire  party  may  yet  be  saved.  I  am  going 
to  try  and  ride  there  to-night,  and  I  want  you  to 
come  with  me.  Our  horses,  and  yours  in  par 
ticular,  are  the  freshest  of  all  the  animals.  I 
have  told  Mr.  Hobart;  but  there  is  no  need 
of  rousing  any  of  the  others  to  a  sense  of 
their  misery.  Will  you  make  the  attempt  with 
met* 

Of  course  the  boy  would  go ;  and,  for  a  mo 
ment,  he  almost  forgot  his  sufferings,  in  a  feeling 
of  pride  that  he  should  be  selected  for  such  an 
undertaking. 

A  minute  later  they  rode  slowly  away,  and 
the  desert  sands  so  muffled  the  sound  of  their 


Campmates. 

horses'  hoofs  that  their  departure  was  not  noted 
by  those  whom  they  left. 

With  fresh,  strong  animals,  and  without  that 
terrible  choking  thirst,  that  night  ride  over  the 
moonlight  plain  would  have  been  a  rare  pleas 
ure.  Under  the  circumstances  it  was  like  a  fright 
ful  dream.  Neither  of  the  riders  cared  to  talk  ; 
the  effort  was  too  painful ;  but  both  thought  of 
the  last  ride  they  had  taken  together  in  the  cab 
of  a  locomotive  on  a  Missouri  railroad,  and  the 
man  looked  tenderly  at  the  boy,  as  he  recalled 
the  incidents  of  that  night.  For  an  hour  they 
rode  in  silence,  their  panting  steeds  maintaining 
a  shambling  gait  through  the  sand,  that  was 
neither  a  trot  nor  a  lope,  but  a  mixture  of  the 
two.  Then  they  dropped  into  a  walk,  and,  for 
another  hour,  were  only  roused  to  greater  speed 
by  infinite  exertions  on  the  part  of  their  riders. 
At  last  Senor  stumbled  heavily,  recovered  him 
self,  and  then  fell. 

"  There  is  no  use  trying  to  get  him  up  again," 
said  the  chief.  "  I'm  afraid  the  poor  old  horse 
is  done  for ;  but  you  must  ride  on,  and  I  will 
follow  on  foot.  Head  for  that  dark  space.  It 
marks  a  valley.  I  shall  not  be  far  behind  you. 
If  you  find  water,  fire  your  pistol.  The  sound 
will  give  me  new  strength.  Good-bye,  and  may 
God  prosper  you." 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  313 

"  But  I  hate  to  leave  you,  sir." 

"Never  mind  me;  hurry  on.  A  moment 
wasted  now  may  be  at  the  price  of  a  life." 

So  Glen  went  on  alone,  trying,  in  husky  tones, 
to  encourage  his  brave  little  mare,  and  urge  her 
to  renewed  efforts.  She  seemed  to  realize  that 
this  was  a  struggle  for  life,  and  responded  nobly. 
She  even  broke  into  a  lope,  as  the  ground  became 
harder.  The  sand  was  disappearing.  Water 
might  be  nearer  than  they  thought. 

Five  miles  farther  Nettle  carried  her  rider, 
and  then  she  staggered  beneath  his  weight.  She 
could  not  bear  him  a  rod  farther,  and  he  knew 
it.  A  choking  sob  rose  in  the  boy's  parched 
throat  as  he  dismounted  and  left  her  standing 
there,  the  plucky  steed  that  had  brought  him 
so  far  and  so  faithfully ;  but  he  could  not  stay 
with  her,  he  must  go  on.  He  could  see  the 
opening  to  the  valley  plainly  now,  though  it 
was  still  some  miles  away;  and,  summoning 
all  his  strength,  he  walked  towards  it. 

At  half  the  distance  he  was  skirting  a  foot 
hill,  when  down  its  gravelly  side,  directly  tow 
ards  him,  rushed  two  animals,  like  great  dogs. 
They  were  mountain- wolves  at  play,  one  chasing 
the  other,  and  they  came  on,  apparently  without 
seeing  him.  When,  with  a  hoarse  cry,  he  attracted 
their  attention,  they  stopped,  and,  sitting  on  their 


314  Campmatea. 

haunches,  not  more  than  a  couple  of  rods  away, 
gazed  at  him  curiously. 

He  dared  not  fire  at  them,  for  fear  of  only 
wounding  one  and  thus  arousing  their  fury.  Nor 
did  he  wish  to  raise  false  hopes  in  the  mind  of 
General  Elting,  who  might  hear  the  shot  and 
think  it  meant  water. 

Some  one  had  toid  him  of  the  cowardice  of 
wolves.  He  would  try  it.  Picking  up  a  stone,  he 
flung  it  at  them,  at  the  same  time  running  for 
ward,  brandishing  his  arms,  and  giving  a  feeble 
shout.  They  sprang  aside,  hesitated  a  moment, 
and  then  turned  tail  and  fled. 

Soon  afterwards  Glen  reached  the  valley,  which 
was  apparently  about  half  a  mile  broad.  On  its 
farther  side  was  a  line  of  shadow  blacker  than 
the  rest.  It  might  be  timber.  With  tottering 
footsteps  the  boy  staggered  towards  it.  As  his 
feet  touched  a  patch  of  grass  he  could  have 
knelt  and  kissed  it,  but  at  the  same  instant  he 
heard  the  most  blessed  sound  on  earth,  the  trick 
ling  of  a  rivulet.  He  fell  as  he  reached  it,  and 
plunged  his  head  into  the  life-giving  water.  It 
was  warm  and  strongly  impregnated  with  sul 
phur  ;  but  never  had  he  tasted  anything  so  de 
licious,  nor  will  he  ever  again. 

Had  it  been  cold  water,  the  amount  that  he 
drank  might  have  killed  him ;  as  it  was,  it  only 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  3W 

made  him  sick.  After  a  while  he  recovered,  and 
then  how  he  gloated  in  that  tiny  stream.  How 
he  bathed  his  hands  and  face,  and,  suddenly, 
how  he  wished  the  others  were  there  with  him. 
Perhaps  a  shot  might  bear  the  joyful  news  to 
the  ears  of  the  general. 

"With  the  thought  he  drew  his  revolver,  and 
roused  the  mountain  echoes  with  its  six  shots, 
fired  in  quick  succession.  Then  he  tried  to  walk 
up  the  valley  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  ranch.  It 
was  all  he  could  do  to  keep  on  his  feet,  and  only 
a  mighty  effort  of  will  restrained  him  from  fling 
ing  himself  down  on  the  grass  and  going  to  sleep 
beside  that  stream  of  blessed  water. 

A  few  minutes  later  there  came  a  quick  rush 
of  hoofs  from  up  the  valley,  and  in  the  moonlight 
he  saw  two  horsemen  galloping  towards  him. 
They  dashed  up  with  hurried  questions  as  to  the 
firing  they  had  heard,  and,  somehow,  he  man 
aged  to  make  them  understand  that  a  party  of 
white  men  were  dying  of  thirst  twenty  miles 
out  on  the  desert. 

The  next  thing  he  knew,  he  was  in  a  house, 
and  dropping  into  a  sleep  of  such  utter  weari 
ness  that  to  do  anything  else  would  have  been 
beyond  his  utmost  power  of  mind  or  body. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

CROSSING  THE  SIERRA  NEVADA. 

WHEN  Glen  next  woke  to  a  realizing  sense  of 
his  surroundings,  the  evening  shadows  had  again 
fallen,  and  he  heard  familiar  voices  near  by  him. 
All  were  there,  General  Elting,  Mr.  Hobart, 
"  Billy "  Brackett,  Binney  Gibbs,  and  the  rest, 
just  sitting  down  to  a  supper  at  the  hospitable 
ranch  table.  It  was  laden  with  fresh  beef,  soft 
bread,  butter,  eggs,  milk,  boiled  cabbage,  and  tea, 
all  of  them  luxuries  that  they  had  not  tasted  for 
months.  And  they  had  plates,  cups  and  saucers, 
spoons,  knives,  and  forks.  Glen  wondered  if  he 
should  know  how  to  use  them ;  but  he  did  not 
wonder  if  he  were  hungry.  Nor  did  he  wait  for 
an  invitation  to  join  that  supper-party. 

He  was  dirty  and  ragged  and  unkempt  as  he 
entered  the  room  in  which  his  comrades  were 
assembled;  but  what  did  they  care?  He  was 
the  one  who  had  found  help  and  sent  it  to  them 
in  the  time  of  their  sore  need.  Some  of  them 
owed  their  lives  to  him,  perhaps  all  of  them  did. 
Every  man  in  the  room  stood  up,  as  the  chief 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  317 

took  him  by  the  hand  and  led  him  to  the  head 
of  the  table,  saying, 

"  Here  he  is,  gentlemen.  Here  is  the  lad  who 
saved  the  second  division.  Some  of  us  might 
have  got  through  without  his  help ;  others  cer 
tainly  would  not.  Right  here  I  wish  to  thank 
him,  and  to  thank  God  for  the  strength,  pluck, 
and  powers  of  endurance  with  which  this  boy, 
to  whom  we  owe  so  much,  is  endowed." 

And  Glen !  How  did  he  take  all  this  praise  ? 
Why,  he  was  so  hungry,  and  his  eyes  were  fixed 
so  eagerly  on  the  table  full  of  good  things  spread 
before  him  that  he  hardly  knew  what  the  gen 
eral  was  talking  about.  If  they  would  only  let 
him  sit  down  and  eat,  and  drink  some  of  that 
delicious-looking  water !  He  came  very  near  in 
terrupting  the  proceedings  by  doing  so.  At 
length,  to  his  great  relief,  they  all  sat  down,  and 
in  a  moment  Glen  was  eating  and  drinking  in  a 
manner  only  possible  to  a  hearty  boy  who  has 
gone  without  water  and  almost  without  food  for 
two  days. 

A  little  later,  seated  before  a  glorious  camp- 
fire  of  oak  logs  outside  the  ranch,  Glen  learned 
how  the  two  ranchmen,  after  getting  him  to  the 
house,  had  loaded  a  wagon  with  barrels  of  water 
and  gone  out  on  the  desert.  They  first  found 
General  Elting,  nearly  exhausted,  but  still  walk- 


318  Campmates. 

ing,  within  a  couple  of  miles  of  the  valley,  and 
afterwards  discovered  the  rest  of  the  party  drag 
ging  themselves  falteringly  along  beside  one  of 
the  ambulances,  which,  with  the  notes  and  maps 
of  the  expedition,  was  the  only  thing  they  had 
attempted  to  bring  in. 

And  Nettle !  Oh,  yes ;  the  brave  little  mare 
was  also  found,  revived,  and  brought  in  to  the 
ranch.  She  needed  a  long  rest;  and  both  for 
her  sake  and  as  a  token  of  his  gratitude,  Glen 
presented  her  to  one  of  the  ranchmen.  The  set 
tlers  went  out  that  same  night  after  the  other 
ambulance  and  the  wagon,  abandoned  on  the 
shore  of  the  salt  lake.  When  they  returned, 
General  Elting  traded  his  big,  nearly  exhausted 
army  mules  for  their  wiry  little  bronchos,  giving 
two  for  one,  and  thus  securing  fresh  teams  to 
haul  all  that  remained  of  his  wagon-train  to  the 
coast. 

The  party  spent  three  days  in  recruiting  at 
this  kindly  ranch,  to  which  they  will  always  look 
back  with  grateful  hearts,  and  think  of  as  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  spots  on  earth.  Then, 
strengthened  and  refreshed,  they  passed  on  up 
the  valley,  which  proved  to  be  that  of  the  Te- 
hachapa,  the  very  pass  towards  which  they  had 
directed  their  course  from  the  moment  of  leaving 
the  Colorado. 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  319 

How  beautiful  seemed  its  oak-groves,  its  mead- 
ows,  its  abounding  springs  of  cool,  sweet  water, 
and  its  clear,  bracing  air!  How  they  ate  and 
slept  and  worked  and  enjoyed  living!  What 
grand  camp-fires  they  had,  and  how  much  merri 
ment  circulated  about  them  1  And  had  they  not 
cause  for  rejoicing  ?  Had  they  not  toiled  across 
half  the  width  of  a  continent?  Had  they  not 
traversed  vast  plains  and  mountain-ranges  and 
deserts  ?  Had  they  not  encountered  savage  men 
and  savage  beasts  ?  Had  they  not  suffered  from 
hunger,  thirst,  cold,  and  hardships  of  all  kinds  ? 
Had  they  not  conquered  and  triumphed  over  all 
these  ?  Were  they  not  left  far  behind,  and  was 
not  the  journey's  end  in  sight  ?  No  wonder  they 
were  light-hearted  and  excited,  and  no  wonder 
they  seemed  to  inhale  champagne  with  every 
breath  of  that  mountain  air ! 

General  Elting  left  them  at  the  summit  of  the 
pass,  and,  taking  Binney  Gibbs  with  him  in  his 
private  ambulance,  hastened  on  to  Los  Angeles 
to  make  arrangements  for  the  transportation  of 
the  party,  by  steamer,  up  the  coast  to  San  Fran 
cisco  ;  for  there  were  no  railroads  in  California 
in  those  days. 

The  rest  of  the  engineers  travelled  leisurely 
down  the  western  slope  of  the  Sierras  into  a  re 
gion  that  became  more  charming  with  each  mile 


380  Campmates. 

of  progress.  It  was  spring-time.  The  rainy  sea 
son  was  drawing  to  its  close,  and  the  Golden  State 
was  at  its  best.  The  air  was  filled  with  the  sweet 
scents  of  innumerable  flowers,  the  song  of  birds, 
and  the  music  of  rushing  waters.  The  bay-trees 
wore  their  new  spring  robes  of  vivid  green,  from 
which  the  soft  winds  shook  out  delightfully  spicy 
odors.  The  trunks  of  the  manzanitas  glowed  be 
neath  their  wine-red  skins,  while  the  madronos 
were  clad  in  glossy,  fawn-colored  satins.  To  the 
toil-worn  explorers,  just  off  the  alkaline  sands  of 
the  parched  and  verdureless  desert,  the  old  mission 
of  San  Gabriel,  nestled  at  the  base  of  the  west 
ern  foot-hills,  seemed  the  very  garden-spot  of  the 
world.  Here  were  groves  of  oranges,  lemons, 
limes,  pomegranates,  and  olives.  Here  were  roses 
and  jasmines.  Here  were  heliotrope  and  fuch 
sias,  grown  to  be  trees,  and  a  bewildering  pro 
fusion  of  climbing  vines  and  flowering  shrubs, 
of  which  they  knew  not  the  names. 

But  they  recognized  the  oranges,  though  none 
of  them  had  ever  seen  one  growing  before ;  and, 
with  a  shout  of  joy,  the  entire  party  rushed  into 
the  grove,  where  the  trees  were  laden  at  once 
with  the  luscious  fruit  and  perfumed  blossoms. 
There  was  no  pause  to  discuss  the  proper  method 
of  peeling  an  orange  in  this  case,  for  they  did 
not  stop  to  peel  them  at  all.  They  just  ate  them, 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

skin  and  all,  like  so  many  apples.  It  was  such 
a  treat  as  they  had  never  enjoyed  before,  and 
they  made  the  most  of  it. 

Not  long  after  leaving  San  Gabriel,  as  they 
were  making  a  night  march  towards  Los  Ange 
les,  Glen  suddenly  became  aware  of  a  strange 
humming  sound  above  his  head ;  and,  looking  up, 
saw  a  telegraph  wire.  With  a  glad  shout  he 
announced  its  presence.  It  was  the  most  civil 
ized  thing  they  had  seen  since  leaving  Kansas. 

At  Los  Angeles  they  could  not  make  up  their 
minds  to  endure  the  close,  dark  rooms  of  the 
Fonda,  and  so  camped  out  for  the  night  in  the 
government  corral  beside  their  wagon. 

The  following  day  they  made  their  last  march 
over  twenty  miles  of  level  prairie,  dotted  with 
flocks  and  herds,  to  San  Pedro,  on  the  coast.  It 
was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  sun  was  set 
ting,  when,  from  a  slight  eminence,  they  caught 
their  first  glimpse  of  the  gold-tinted  Pacific  wa 
ters.  For  a  moment  they  gazed  in  silence,  with 
hearts  too  full  for  words.  Then  everybody  shook 
hands  with  the  one  nearest  to  him,  and  more 
than  one  tear  of  joyful  emotion  trickled  down 
the  bronzed  and  weather-beaten  cheeks  of  the 
explorers.  As  for  Glen  Eddy,  he  never  expects 
to  be  so  thrilled  again  as  he  was  by  the  sight  of 
that  mighty  ocean  gleaming  in  the  red  light  of 


Oampmates. 

the  setting  sun,  and  marking  the  end  of  the  most 
notable  journey  of  his  life. 

That  night  they  made  their  last  camp,  and 
gathered  about  their  final  camp-fire.  Glen  and 
"  Billy  "  Brackett  had  shared  their  blankets  ever 
since  leaving  the  Eio  Grande,  and  had  hardly 
slept,  even  beneath  a  canvas  roof,  in  all  those 
months.  Now,  as  they  lay  together  for  the  last 
time,  on  their  bed  of  grassy  turf,  which  is  of  all 
beds  the  one  that  brings  the  sweetest  and  sound 
est  sleep,  and  gazed  at  the  stars  that  had  kept 
faithful  watch  above  them  for  so  long,  they 
talked  in  low  tones  until  a  gentle  sea-breeze  set 
in  and  they  were  lulled  to  sleep  by  the  murmur 
of  distant  breakers,  a  music  now  heard  by  both 
of  them  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives. 

The  next  day  they  turned  over  their  sole  re 
maining  wagon  and  their  ambulance  to  a  govern 
ment  quartermaster.  Then,  having  no  baggage, 
they  were  ready,  without  further  preparation,  to 
embark  on  the  steamer  Orizaba  for  San  Fran 
cisco,  to  which  place  General  Elting  and  Binney 
Gibbs  had  gone  on,  by  stage,  from  Los  Angeles, 
some  days  before. 

As  the  great  ship  entered  the  Golden  Gate 
and  steamed  up  the  bay,  past  Tamalpias,  past 
the  Presidio,  past  Alcatraz  Island,  and  into  the 
harbor  of  San  Francisco,  Glen  Eddy  found  it 


A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

hard  to  realize  that  it  was  all  true,  and  that  this 
young  explorer,  who  was  about  to  set  foot  in 
the  city  of  his  most  romantic  day  dreams,  was 
really  the  boy  who  had  started  from  Brimfield 
ten  months  before,  without  an  idea  of  what  was 
before  him. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

A  HOME  AND  TWO  FATHERS. 

OF  course  they  all  went  to  the  Occidental,  for 
everybody  went  first  to  the  Occidental  in  those 
days.  As  they  drove  through  the  city,  in  open 
carriages,  their  long  hair,  buckskin  shirts,  rags, 
in  some  cases  soleless  and  toeless  boots,  and  gen 
erally  wild  and  disreputable  appearance  attracted 
much  amused  attention  from  the  well-dressed 
shoppers  of  Montgomery  Street ;  and,  when  they 
trooped  into  the  marble  rotunda  of  the  great 
hotel,  they  excited  the  universal  curiosity  of  its 
other  and  more  civilized  guests. 

But  they  did  not  mind — they  enjoyed  the  sensa 
tion  they  were  creating ;  and  Glen,  who  was  one 
of  the  wildest-looking  of  them  all,  rather  pitied 
Binney  Gibbs  on  account  of  the  fine  clothing  he 
had  already  assumed,  as  the  two  met  and  ex 
changed  hearty  greetings  once  more. 

"  Come  up  into  my  room,  Glen,"  said  Binney, 
eagerly,  "  I've  got  a  lot  of  Brimfield  news,  and 
there's  a  pile  of  letters  for  you  besides.  Only 
think,  Lame  Wolf  is  playing  short-stop  on  the 


A  /Story  of  the  Plains.  3%5 

ball  nine,  and  they  say  he's  going  to  make  one 
of  the  best  players  they've  ever  had." 

The  last  news  Glen  had  received  from  home 
was  in  the  letters  Mr.  Hobart  had  brought  from 
Santa  Fe  nearly  five  months  before.  He  had 
learned  then  of  Lame  Wolf's  safe  arrival  at 
Brimfield,  and  of  his  beginning  to  study  Eng 
lish  ;  but  now  to  hear  of  his  being  on  the  ball 
nine !  That  was  making  progress ;  and  the  boy 
felt  very  proud  of  his  young  Indian.  But  there 
was  more  startling  news  than  that  awaiting  him. 
In  one  of  the  letters  from  his  adopted  father, 
which,  though  it  bore  the  latest  date,  had  al 
ready  been  waiting  in  San  Francisco  more  than 
a  month,  he  read,  with  amazement,  the  follow 
ing  paragraphs : 

"  I  have  just  received  a  note  from  a  lady  who 
writes  that  she  met  a  gentleman  in  New  Mexico 
who  told  her  all  about  you.  She  was  intensely 
interested,  because  she  thinks  she  knew  your 
mother,  and  travelled  with  her  and  you  on  the 
day  the  train  was  wrecked  in  Glen  Eddy  creek, 
when  you  and  I  were  the  only  survivors.  She 
also  says  that  the  mother  with  whom  she  trav 
elled  said  her  baby  was  just  a  year  old,  and  that 
day  was  his  birthday.  So,  my  dear  boy,  if  it 
should  happen  that  you  and  the  baby  she  men 
tions  are  the  same,  you  are  a  year  younger  than 


326  Campmates. 

we  have  always  thought  you,  and  are  just  the  age 
of  Binney  Gibbs.  In  conclusion,  the  lady  writes 
that  she  believes  your  real  father  to  be  still  alive, 
and  she  thinks  she  knows  his  name,  but  pre 
fers  not  to  mention  it  until  she  hears  from  me 
all  that  I  know  of  your  history.  I,  of  course, 
wrote  to  her  at  once,  and  am  anxiously  expect 
ing  an  answer.  I  never  loved  you  more  than 
now,  and  to  give  you  up  will  well-nigh  break  my 
heart;  but,  if  there  is  anything  better  in  store 
for  you  than  I  can  offer,  I  would  be  the  last  one 
to  stand  in  the  way  of  your  accepting  it. 

"  Now,  my  dear  boy,  come  home  as  soon  as 
you  can,  and  perhaps  you  will  find  two  fathers 
awaiting  you  instead  of  one.  We  are  full  of 
anxiety  concerning  you.  Be  sure  and  telegraph 
the  moment  you  arrive  in  San  Francisco." 

Over  and  over  did  Glen  read  this  letter  before 
he  could  control  himself  sufficiently  to  speak. 
Binney  Gibbs  noticed  his  agitation,  and  finally 
said, 

"  No  bad  news,  I  hope,  old  man  ?" 

For  answer  the  boy  handed  him  the  letter, 
which  Binney  read  with  ever-growing  excite 
ment.  When  he  finished  he  exclaimed,  "  It's 
wonderful,  Glen,  and  I  do  hope  it  will  come  out 
all  right.  I  always  felt  sorry  for  you  at  not 
knowing  who  you  were,  even  when  I  was  so 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  327 

meanly  jealous  of  you  for  being  stronger  and 
more  popular  than  I,  and  now  I  congratulate 
you  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  What  a 
lucky  thing  it  has  been  though,  over  and  over 
again,  not  only  for  you,  but  for  me,  and  the 
whole  second  division,  that  you  were  stronger 
than  I !"  he  added,  with  a  hearty  sincerity  that 
he  would  not  have  exhibited  a  year  before.  "  I 
tell  you  what,  this  trip  has  opened  my  eyes  to 
some  things,  and  one  of  them  is  that  a  fellow's 
body  needs  just  as  much  training  as  his  mind." 

"  It  has  opened  mine  too,"  said  Glen,  earnestly. 
"  It  has  taught  me  that,  no  matter  how  strong  a 
fellow  is,  he  can't  expect  to  amount  to  much  in 
this  world  unless  he  knows  something,  and  that 
he  can't  know  much  unless  he  learns  it  by  hard 
study.  If  ever  I  get  a  chance  to  go  to  school 
again,  you  better  believe  I'll  imow  how  to  value 
it." 

"And  if  I  ever  get  another  chance  to  learn 
how  to  swim,  you  may  be  sure  I  won't  throw  it 
away  in  a  hurry,"  laughed  Binney. 

"Only  see  what  a  splendid  fellow  *  Billy' 
Brackett  is,"  continued  Glen,  "just  because  he 
has  trained  his  muscle  and  his  brain  at  the  same 
time,  without  letting  either  get  ahead  of  the 
other.  And,  speaking  of  'Billy'  Brackett,  I 
must  go  and  show  him  this  letter,  because  he  is 


3%8  Campmates. 

one  of  the  best  friends  I  have  got  in  the  world, 
and  I  know  he'll  be  glad  to  hear  anything  that 
pleases  me." 

First,  Glen  stopped  at  the  telegraph  office  in 
the  hotel,  and  sent  the  following  despatch  to 
Brimfi  eld . 

"  Just  arrived,  safe  and  sound.  Start  for  home 
first  steamer,"  for  which  he  paid  eight  dollars 
in  gold. 

Then  he  went  to  "Billy"  Brackett's  room, 
where  he  found  that  young  engineer  struggling 
with  a  new  coat  that  had  just  been  sent  in  from 
a  tailor's,  and  lamenting,  more  than  ever,  the  loss 
of  his  shiny  but  well-loved  old  cutaway  that  had 
been  eaten  by  one  of  the  hungry  mules  on  the 
desert. 

He  was  as  interested  as  Glen  knew  he  would 
be  in  the  letter,  and  as  he  finished  it  he  ex 
claimed  : 

"  Well,  you  are  in  luck,  my  boy,  and  I'm  glad 
of  it !  Here  I  am,  without  a  father  to  my  name, 
while  you  seem  likely  to  have  two.  Well,  you 
deserve  a  dozen ;  and  if  you  had  'em,  each  one 
would  be  prouder  of  you  than  the  other." 

After  a  week  spent  in  San  Francisco,  during 
which  time  the  barber,  tailor,  and  various  out 
fitters  made  a  marvellous  change  in  Glen's  per 
sonal  appearance,  he,  together  with  General  El- 


A  Story  of  ike  Plains.  329 

ting  and  Binney  Gibbs,  boarded  one  of  the  great 
Pacific  Mail  Steamships  for  Panama.  Mr.  Ho- 
bart,  "  Billy  "  Brackett,  and  the  other  members 
of  the  second  division,  had  decided  to  remain  for 
a  while  on  that  coast,  and  most  of  them  had  al 
ready  accepted  positions  on  some  of  the  various 
engineering  works  then  in  progress  in  Califor 
nia  ;  but  they  were  all  at  the  steamer  to  see  the 
homeward-bound  travellers  off.  As  the  great 
wheels  were  set  in  motion,  and  the  stately  ship 
moved  slowly  from  the  wharf,  the  quieter  spec 
tators  were  startled  by  the  tremendous  farewell 
cheer  that  arose  from  the  "  campmates  "  who  re 
mained  behind ;  and  the  cries  of  "  good-bye,  gen 
eral!  we'll  be  on  hand  whenever  you  want  us 
again !  Good-bye,  Grip !  Good-bye,  Glen,  old 
man !  We  won't  forget  the  desert  in  a  hurry ! 
Good-bye!" 

The  run  down  the  coast  was  a  smooth  and 
pleasant  one;  while  the  several  Mexican  and 
Central  American  ports  at  which  they  touched 
were  full  of  interest  and  delightful  novelty  to  the 
Brimfield  boys.  They  thoroughly  enjoyed  cross 
ing  the  Isthmus,  and  would  gladly  have  lingered 
longer  amid  its  wonderful  tropic  scenery.  Not 
until  they  were  on  the  Atlantic,  however,  and 
steaming  northward,  did  they  realize  that  they 
were  fairly  on  their  way  home. 


330  Campmates. 

One  day,  as  the  two  boys  were  sitting  on  deck, 
in  company  with  General  Elting,  gazing  at  the 
coast  of  Cuba,  which  they  were  then  passing, 
Binney  Gibbs  broke  a  long  silence  with  the  re 
mark,  "  Doesn't  it  seem  queer,  Glen,  to  think  that 
when  you  get  home  you  will  be  just  the  age  you 
were  when  you  left  it,  and  perhaps  your  name 
won't  be  <  Glen  Eddy5  after  all?" 

General  Elting  had  not  heard  of  Glen's  letter 
from  his  adopted  father,  nor  had  he  ever  heard 
him  called  "  Glen  Eddy "  before ;  and  now  he 
asked  Binney  what  he  meant  by  such  a  curious 
speech. 

When  it  was  explained,  he  sat  silent  for  several 
minutes,  looking  at  Glen  with  such  a  peculiar  ex 
pression  that  the  boy  grew  uneasy  beneath  the 
fixed  gaze.  Then,  without  a  word,  he  rose  and 
walked  away,  nor  did  they  see  him  again  for 
several  hours.  He  talked  much  with  Glen  dur 
ing  the  remainder  of  the  voyage,  and  frequently 
puzzled  him  by  his  questions,  and  the  interest  he 
manifested  in  everything  relating  to  his  past  life. 

As  he  was  going  to  St.  Louis,  he  took  the  same 
train  with  the  boys  from  New  York ;  and,  though 
he  bade  them  good-bye  as  they  neared  Brimfield, 
he  said  that  he  hoped  and  expected  to  see  them 
again  very  shortly. 

How  natural  the  place  looked  as  the  train 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  331 

rolled  up  to  the  little  station,  and  how  impossi 
ble  it  was  to  realize  that  they  had  crossed  the 
continent  and  sailed  on  two  oceans  since  leav 
ing  it ! 

"  There's  father !"  shouted  Glen  and  Binney  at 
the  same  instant. 

"  And  there  are  all  the  boys !  "Who  is  that 
dark,  good-looking  chap  with  them  ?  It  can't  be 
Lame  Wolf !  But  it  is,  though !  Did  you  ever 
see  such  a  change  for  the  better?  Bully  for 
Lame  Wolf!" 

"  Hurrah  for  Glen  Eddy !  Hurrah  for  Binney 
Gibbs !"  shouted  the  Brimfield  boys,  wild  with 
the  excitement  of  welcoming  home  two  such 
heroes  as  the  young  explorers  were  in  their  eyes. 
The  very  first  to  grasp  Glen's  hand  was  the  In* 
dian  lad,  and  he  said  in  good  English,  though 
with  a  Cheyenne  accent,  "How  Glen!  Lem 
Wolf  is  very  glad.  Lem  Wolf  is  short-stop  now. 
He  can  play  ball." 

Binney  Gibbs  disappeared  in  his  father's  car 
riage;  but  Glen  walked  from  the  station  with 
his  adopted  father,  and  everybody  wanted  to 
shake  hands  with  him,  and  ask  him  questions, 
and  throng  about  him,  so  that  it  seemed  as  though 
they  never  would  reach  home. 

It  was  a  happy  home-coming,  and  Glen  was 
touched  by  the  interest  and  the  kindly  feeling 


33%  Campmates. 

manifested  towards  him;  but  how  he  did  long 
to  reach  the  house,  and  be  alone  for  a  minute 
with  Mr.  Matherson.  There  was  one  question 
that  he  was  so  eager,  and  yet  almost  afraid,  to 
ask.  Had  his  own  father  been  discovered  ?  But 
he  could  not  ask  it  before  all  those  people,  nor 
did  he  have  an  opportunity  for  a  full  hour  after 
they  reached  the  house.  Some  of  the  neighbors 
were  there,  and  they  had  to  have  supper,  and 
everything  seemed  to  interfere  to  postpone  that 
quiet  talk  for  which  he  was  so  anxious. 

At  length  he  could  wait  no  longer,  and,  almost 
dragging  Mr.  Matherson  into  the  little  front  par 
lor,  he  closed  the  door  and  said  breathlessly, 
"Now  tell  me,  father;  tell  me  quick!  Is  he 
alive  ?  Have  you  found  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  boy,  he  is  alive,  or  was  a  few  months 
ago,  and  I  think  we  can  find  him.  In  fact,  I  be 
lieve  you  know  him  very  well,  and  could  tell  me 
where  to  find  him  better  than  I  can  tell  you." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  cried  Glen.  "  Oh,  tell 
me  quick !  What  is  his  name  ?" 

There  was  so  much  confusion  outside  that 
they  did  not  notice  the  opening  of  the  front 
gate,  nor  the  strange  step  on  the  walk.  As  Mr. 
Matherson  was  about  to  reply  to  the  boy's  eager 
question,  the  parlor  door  opened,  and  one  of  the 
children  entered,  with  a  card  in  her  hand,  saying, 


A  Story  of  the  Plains.  333 

"  Somebody  wants  to  see  you,  papa." 

As  Mr.  Matherson  glanced  at  the  card  he 
sprang  to  his  feet,  trembling  with  excitement. 

"  Gerald  Siting !"  he  cried.  "  Why,  Glen,  that 
is  the  name  of  your  own  father !" 

"  And  here  is  his  own  father,  eager  to  claim 
his  son,"  came  from  the  open  doorway,  in  the 
manly  tones  that  Glen  had  long  since  learned  to 
love. 

The  next  moment  the  man's  arms  were  about 
the  boy's  neck,  as,  in  a  voice  trembling  with  long- 
suppressed  emotion,  he  cried, 

"  Oh,  my  son,  my  son !  Have  I  found  you 
after  all  these  years  ?  Now  is  my  long  sorrow 
indeed  turned  to  joy." 


THE   END. 


M23998 


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